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cameronspecial · 16 days

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The People We Used To Be

Pairing: Musician! Rafe Cameron x Musician! Reader

Warnings: Rafe being an asshole

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 8.5K

Summary: Music brought together Y/N and Rafe, but he pulled them apart. After seven years, a competition to win a recording deal brings them back together and they are forced to confront their past.

A/N: Inspired by @ghostofwriting's Kildare Spilt series which is absolutely amazing and you have to check it out if you haven't already. The songs in the fic are "Traitor" by Olivia Rodrigo (Altered to fit the fic) and "Right My Wrongs" by Bryson Tiller. I didn't write them.

Masterlist

Music has a way of making the world make sense for Y/N and Rafe. The Pogue and the Kook met at a Mommy and Me music class their mothers took them to as toddlers. Their mothers and each other helped foster a love for the art and it became even more of a necessity when they lost their mothers. Rafe was the first one to lose his mother. Margaret Cameron had been battling cancer for two years before her passing and it completely destroyed her eight-year-old son. Every Kook he knew tried to help him with his grief, except the one person who could actually get through to him didn’t live on Figure Eight. Instead of crying in his room in Tannyhill, he found himself riding his bike to a small bungalow on the Cut. It was in that small house where a little girl sat on the front porch with a guitar that was too big for her, trying to play “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper. Her mom’s favourite song. The sound of the chain of his bike caused her to freeze and look up from the strings. “You are getting better,” he praised, getting off his bike to walk it up the small driveway. She gave him a smile that showed him she wasn’t afraid to be happy during his time of mourning. She didn’t walk on eggshells around him and he loved it. It made him feel normal, like before his mom got sick. She beckoned him to the porch swing with her hand, “Come sing with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s a girl song,” he argued.

The front door opened and out came Melody Y/L/N. Her smile matched her daughter. “Now, Rafe. Have I not taught you anything about music? There is no such thing as a boy song or a girl song. Or a Pogue song or a Kook song. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. Now, why don’t we all sing together?” Those words touched him and it would continue to do so well into adulthood. And it was that afternoon when Rafe started to heal from the pain of a dead mother. Playing music with the Y/L/N women and being happy made him feel closer to his mom than any condolences from other people.

———

Y/N lost her mother at twelve years old. The real kicker was that the universe decided that the day the girl would turn into a young lady was the day of her mother’s funeral. Her mother was a lively person and requested in her will that people wear their favourite colour to her funeral. So Y/N wore light blue to the burial. When she went to the bathroom after returning home, she was greeted with a massive red stain in her underwear. It felt as though the world had ended. Melody may have talked to her daughter about the logistics of dealing with a period, but Y/N couldn’t remember a word of what her mother had said and she began to panic. She locked herself in the bathroom after her dad gave her a new pair of underwear and some of her mom’s leftover pads. Other than that, he had no idea what else to do to get his daughter out. His wife was gone and his daughter was dealing with a problem he had never experienced before. He felt hopeless until he thought of the one person who could help.

Ward dropped off his son in front of the one-story yellow house, telling his son he could sleep over if Y/N needed someone. Rafe walked into the house as if he lived there and went straight to the bathroom door. “Hey, Rock Star. I heard you were feeling bad. I brought you some KitKats, dulce de leche ice cream and some Tylenol,” he announces, looking through the bag. “My mo- My mom used to say eating sweets made her feel better.” She didn’t respond; instead, she remained seated on the floor against the bathtub. Her head was on her knees to catch the tears coming from her eyes, wishing her mom could be here to help her through it. Rafe sighed, worried his friend would never leave that room again. Since food didn’t work, he only knew one other thing that might be able to get her out. If it didn’t work, then he didn’t know what would. He ran to the living room and flipped through the CD holder, looking for a specific one. He finally found it and took it out. He set it in the CD player and dragged it into the hallway. He plugged it in, skipping to the perfect song. The notes began to play and he shook his hips in synch with it. “I come home, in the morning light,” he started to sing with Cyndi. She could hear his exaggerated shrieks from inside her confides. He was definitely doing it to goad her out. “I think I’m a great singer. What do you think, Rock Star?” he screamed from the other side of the door. She sat there for a little longer, listening to his horrible singing.

Eventually, she had to save her poor ears from the torture. His singing dimmed in volume at the click of the lock. He saw her feet tapping and he knew it was only a matter of time before she joined in with him. Once she started singing with him, he switched to his real singing voice. The slant of her lips was still in a frown, but it was still an improvement from not wanting to see anyone. And once again, music helped the children grieve the loss of an important woman in their lives.

———

Her foot taps against the floor as she bites her nails. The earplugs she is wearing help dampen the sound from the stage. She can’t believe he is here. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. This competition would launch the winner’s career. Y/N hasn’t seen him in seven years and hasn’t played with him for just as long. Kiara comes from behind her and rests a palm on her shoulder. Kie has been touring with Y/N’s band for three years now. As soon as she graduated high school, she hit the road and became the Melodies’ personal assistant. They both turn to look at the lead singer of Just Wanna Have Fun as he sings while strumming his electric guitar. He turns so she can see the back of his guitar and she spots the beam note with their initial in each of the ovals of the notes. R and Y/I/N. She is surprised he hasn’t painted over it already. Each band gets to play three songs and when she hears the next song he decides to play, she can’t stand on the sideline and watch them perform anymore. She turns around and heads into the lounge area for the musicians. How dare he play that song?

He could feel her gaze on her throughout his first set. He should’ve figured she would be here. If he thought she was, he wouldn’t have played the next set. He finishes his part of the duet and he looks to the side of the stage to see her while Frank sings the verse that used to belong to Y/N. Disappointment flashes across his eyes at the empty spot where she was. This is the first time he gets to see her in seven years and of course, he has to screw it up. He gets so caught up in the past that he almost misses his verse.

———

The cool air tickled their skin as her head rested on his stomach. The new electric guitar his dad bought him for his fourteenth birthday lay beside them. “Do you ever worry about us not being friends anymore?” she thought out loud, staring up at a cloud that looked a little like a bunny. He frowns at her and lifts his head up to look at her, “No, why in the world would I think about that?”

“We are total opposites, Rafe. You are a Kook. I’m a Pogue. You are destined for a life of greatness while I’m meant to be stuck on my side of the island.”

He laughs, “That’s absolutely ridiculous because we are both meant to be in a band together and become so famous that the members of Pink Floyd will be jealous.”

He could see the seriousness of her question and sat up, taking her with him. She now sat across from him and he took her hand into his. “But seriously though, all that stuff doesn’t matter. Not when we have music. It’s like your mom used to say. Music isn’t meant for one type of person. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. And that logic is the same for us. We speak to each other, so we are meant for each other,” he promised. He scooted to his backpack and got out a Sharpie. He sat back down beside her, flipping his guitar onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she questioned. She slid in closer to him. He uncapped the marker and began to draw a beam note. He looked up at her with a smile, “Proving to you that we will never stop being friends.” He put his initial in the first note and handed the marker over to her. She got the message, writing her initial in the other note. He took the marker back to cap it. “There. Now, as long as this is here, we will be friends forever.” She giggled at his remark, thinking it would eventually fade; however, what she didn’t know was that he forced his dad to get something to seal the writing that very night.

———

Y/N will never get over the feeling of being on stage. Whether she is playing for a crowd of one or a hundred, all she needs is to share what she loves with people willing to listen. She smiles at the camera Kiara flashes in her face and takes the towel Kie hands to her. The fabric removes the sweat from her forehead, staining with makeup in the process. She makes her way to the lounge to put her stuff away so she can wait out the other bands until they announce who is going to make it to the next round. Her usual routine after a gig is to take a breather outside by herself. She needs the outside air to cool her down and let her think, so her bandmates give her the space she needs as she heads out the backdoor. She breathes in the cool air, slamming against the rough brick wall. So far, she has been able to contain her emotions about seeing him again. Yet, finally being able to focus on her feelings, makes her realize that she is still hurt by what he did all those years ago. She trusted him with all of her heart and he broke that trust. How could someone she loved so much betray her so badly?

“It’s been seven years and you still haven’t changed, Rock Star.” The voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Her head swivels in his direction, rolling her eyes at him. “Neither have you because I’m guessing you are here to smoke. You know those things will kill you, right?” she retorts, looking in the opposite direction. He chuckles, “Yeah, this girl I used to know a while back told me that all the time.” She doesn’t join in his playfulness. “You know what, I’m just going to go back inside,” she decides, pushing off of the wall to head to the door. He reaches for her wrist to stop her. She stops at the contact and he flicks the cigarette bud on the floor. He stomps it out. His gaze finds her again and at the disapproving look on her face, he picks it up and throws it in the garbage. He points toward the door, “I’ll go. I recognize how much you need these moments alone. I’ll see you back inside.” He steps toward the doorway, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “It was nice to see you in person again.” She scoffs, “I wish I could say the same.” This digs another shallow hole in his heart and he lets the door slam shut behind him. Once he is gone, she slides down the wall, resting her head on her knees with her eyes closed. Is a record deal with one of the best recording labels really worth the regauging of old wounds?

Rafe heads to the bathroom, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. The decision to use the individual bathroom is easy; he doesn’t want anyone to walk in on his mental breakdown. His hand twists the cold facet and splashes the water onto his face. The shock of the temperature aids him in rearranging his thoughts. At the sight of her broken heart, it killed him that he wasn’t able to drag her into his hold and whisper how sorry he was for letting them get to this point. After all their time apart, every single detail that he remembers about her is the same. Her lavender perfume remains his favourite smell in the world. The dark fuschia lipstick is the one he picked out for her when she started wearing makeup. And she relies on the tiny taps of her feet in rhythm with the song playing in her head.

———

Rafe watches her from his spot in front of the stage. The area designated for the bands to stand in during the elimination announcement isn’t as crowded as the general admission behind him. Two bands are going to be eliminated. It isn’t a lot, yet it doesn’t guarantee Just Wanna Have Fun is going to continue in the competition. He hopes the Melodies advance, certainly because the longer they both stay, the more chances he has at making things right between them. All he wants is to get back what they had and maybe what they didn’t get the opportunity. That wish is quickly submerged by a wave from a passing jet ski.

The jet ski is probably two inches shorter than Rafe. His light brown curly hair goes passed the bottom of his ear and looks like a flat mane. The green eyes stare at Y/N with adoration that only Rafe should be allowed to direct toward her. What really destroys Rafe is when that five o’clock shadow brushes against Y/N’s skin to give her a kiss on the cheek. Garrett notices Rafe’s gaze and shoves the glarer with his shoulder. “Stop staring. You look creepy,” Garrett orders, turning back to the stage. As Rafe is about to obey the suggestion, he catches the way Y/N leans against the chest of the mystery man, causing a bubble of nausea to form in his stomach. The screech of a microphone calls the attention of everyone in the crowd. A short woman with blue hair and black lips angles the bulb toward her, “Everyone played beautifully tonight, but unfortunately, you all can’t join us next week. Just as a reminder every week, two bands will be eliminated. Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for.” She takes a pause to unfold the paper with the names of the unlucky musicians and her cheerful demeanour shifts to one of sorrow. “I’m sorry to announce that Dex the Sex and Heartaches will not be playing on this stage again next week.” The bands closest to the exiled ones express their condolences, while the ones further away can be seen celebrating the small victory. Rafe turns to hug his bandmates and can’t help but risk a glance at her. Her arms are around her supposed boyfriend’s neck and their chest are pressed against each other.

The green-eyed monster tickles his heart. His legs move in advance of his brain processing his emotions. The tips of his navy blue converses touch her black leather boots. He notices the way the man’s arm around her waist slightly tightens so that the veins in his arms are prominent and the sharp jaw clenches. Rafe eventually has the confidence to look in her eyes and her distaste for him marinates in them. His fingers go to scratch the back of his ear, “Congrats on making it to the next round. You… you played great. Was the last song new?” She leans forward in the man’s hold and some of her hatred cools down. “Thanks, it is. Something I came up with last week. We’ve been working late nights to perfect it for tonight. You sounded great tonight too,” she says barely above a whisper. The man behind her looks between the ex-bandmates and extends his hand out, “I’m Knox, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you, Rafe.”

Rafe grips Knox’s hand a little too tight with a straight smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he placates, wondering how much trouble he would get into for punching the idiot. It would be unwarranted for sure, yet it doesn’t stop his urge to want to do it. Feeling the start of a cock fight brewing, Y/N steps in. “We didn’t eat dinner before the show, so we are going to go… do that.” She breaks away from her boyfriend’s hold and takes his hand, following her friends toward the exit. Her cold demeanour might have made someone else lose spirit. Someone who didn’t know Y/N. Rafe knows otherwise though. He was able to crack the glaze of her harshness. He isn’t letting that victory go.

———

His feet ache after a late-night practice. They had gotten the last timeslot for practice at the venue today, not that Rafe minds. He works better at night because it is when he needs a distraction the most. She was there earlier, so he didn’t get to see her. The smell of her perfume followed him wherever he went while he was there. They haven’t had any encounters since that night. It doesn’t surprise him; she is obviously avoiding him. It hurts him more than hell and he knows he deserves it because he did something a hundred times worse to her. The echo of his footsteps is the sole sound in his vast apartment. This has been his house for five years, except it doesn’t feel like home. Not when it doesn’t have that touch of her like his room at Tannyhill does.

———

“God, could your room look any more like a stereotypical teenage boy’s jerk off-centre?” she criticized, looking around the room with disgust in her eyes at the cluster of cups on his bedside table. Some of them had ring stains around the glass. He looked at her over his shoulder, “What are you talking about? All the guys I know have a room like this.” She points at the walls littered merely with car posters or bikini models. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. How can you call this place home if there is nothing that shows you are the one living here?” she argued. He gestured to the poster, “What do you think that is?”

“That shows me that any guy in my class lives here.”

“Like a Pogue could afford half of the stuff in this room.”

“Really, Rafe?”

“Right, sorry. Can you just get to the point? What do you think I should add then? What will make this place my home?”

“You need more personality in here. Pictures of people you love. Little trinkets. Plants. Music stuff. Love letters from a sweetheart.”

He chuckled, “Like you display your love letters. And why can’t my personality be cars and bikini posters.” “Because that’s every other straight cis-gendered boy's personality. You know, if you added more things, it would make a girl feel more comfortable in your room,” she attempted a different tactic. His brow arched, “Hmm, never thought about it that way. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in my room though. Why bring it up now?” “I’m tired of looking at this nasty-ass messy room. That’s why,” she admitted. He nodded, taking into consideration her opinion. He grabbed a piece of tape from his desk drawer and took out his wallet. She observes as he slides out a picture from the window slot. He tacked on the photo right above his desk. She couldn’t see what it was in, so she stepped forward. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight. It was a picture of them. The memory of when the photo was taken comes to the forefront of her mind. They were twelve years old and he had just learnt a new chord on the guitar, so of course, he had to teach her it as well. His hands were placed over hers on the neck of the guitar, while he guided her fingers. “What’s this?” she stupidly questioned.

He grinned at her, “You told me to put up a picture of someone I loved and I did.” “And you just had that picture in your wallet this whole time?” she clarified. He shrugged, “Yep since I got it.” “That is very unexpected, Rafe,” she thought out loud. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “What do you expect, Rock Star? You’re my best friend. Of course, I love you.” The words stung her. It shouldn’t surprise her that was who he saw her as. She was a Pogue; she could never be more to him.

———

He should’ve brought that picture to New York with him. He did bring one thing over that reminded him of home. The music room in his apartment has everything he needs to write a song. It is the one place in his apartment that he doesn’t mind spending time in. There are so many ways for him to clear his mind here and it is where his bandmates like to hang out too. No matter how many times Frank (keyboardist), Garrett (bassist), Topper (drummer), and Barry (band manager) enter this room and know every inch of the room, they will never find his most precious possession. He kneels beside the drawer tower filled with various accessories for the instruments and pulls the bottom one open. He pushes down on the false bottom to reveal a stack of lined papers. They are rumpled from how many times he has read them over; he just couldn’t bring himself to send them or get rid of them. At first, he wrote them to apologize to her, but then he started to use it as a cathartic method. He allowed himself to express everything he had ever wanted to say to her in the letters and every time he needed a reminder of who they used to each other, he read them. His hope was that one day they would be the personalization their house needed to feel like home. It’s been a while since he wrote a new one; however, with her reappearance in his life, it feels time to write another.

Dear Rock Star,

Even after all this time, you still manage to find a way to have a hold on my heart. Maybe, it’s because I never sent the first letter, so we never got the closure we needed. But seeing you again made my heart feel like it was beating to the tune of its old song. Everything I felt for you came back like a tidal wave and all I wanted to do was hug the ever-loving shit out of you. And then he went to you. That wave I thought I could overcome became my undoing. It made me regret never reaching out to say I was sorry. I realized that your rejection of my apology would be a lot less painful than your moving on from me. It was bound to happen. How could it not when you are the most amazing person to have ever existed? I just dreamt that I could’ve found my way back into your life before it happened. But I didn’t and now, I have to stew in my consequences.

I sometimes wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you. I get that it is different for you. You were the one who got hurt instead of the one doing the hurting. I think you do. You may not admit it, but you responded to me. Maybe you wanted to seem professional and I can see that being your reason. Yet, your eyes told me something else. I’m not talking about when we talked. I’m talking about when I was on stage. You saw the beam note and I could see the yarning behind the hatred. You want to go back to that time just as much as I want to. I’m going to get us back to that place, I promise. We might not be able to be exactly the people we used to be; nevertheless, we can try. Because you still speak to me, Rock Star, and that means we are meant to be.

Loving you always,

Rafe

He sighs at the final stroke of the pen and caps it. He reads it over and over until it is all he can think about. The words have never felt more true to him and he makes a vow to himself to make it come true. If he can’t have back what they once had, then he will make damn sure he’ll earn the next best thing. He hears the jiggle of the front door handle and rapidly shoves everything back into the drawer. “Dude, why is it always so damn dark in here? Don’t you know how to turn on lights?” Topper teases from downstairs. “Where are you? Come out of the studio for once, will ya? We brought you food from that Turkish place.”

———

“I think maybe we should try you coming in later with the backup vocals, Debs. Why don’t we try again?” Y/N advises. At the nod from the other girls, Y/N faces the stage outward and grips the microphone with both hands. Viola counts them down, beginning the rhythm for everyone to join in. Y/N waits for her cue to sing; she has been the lead singer for the Melodies for seven years and she has yet to figure out what to do with her hands. When they started the band, they figured having two guitarists didn’t mesh well with their sound. So, she offered to drop the instrument for the band because Laila hates singing. She didn’t mind not being able to play on stage, except there were sometimes when she missed it. She’d even dare to say she missed playing with Just Wanna Hav Fun because she wanted the ability to shred some strings in a room bigger than her shoebox of an apartment. The note that signifies she comes in plays and she opens her mouth to sing. Her mind turns off, focusing entirely on hitting every note perfectly. Every time she gets to be on stage, she finds herself falling in love with music again. Especially since it helps her feel closer to her mother.

The girls get lost in the music and forget the time. The clearing of a throat causes Y/N to whip in the direction of it. Topper gives her a small smile and a wave, “I hate to stop the creative flow, but it’s eleven.” Y/N’s head bobs and helps the others get all of their stuff together. She can feel the eyes of the people she used to call friends on her. She tries not to succumb to the pressure of their gaze. As they leave the stage, both groups awkwardly look at each other. She hasn’t kept secrets from her girls, so they know everything that went down between her and the boys.

Laila, Viola, and Debra can see the emotionless expression on her face at the encounter with her past and decide not to bring it up. “Are you working a shift today?” Laila inquires whilst placing her guitar in its case. Y/N slings her bag across her chest, “Yeah, I’m doing a closing shift. If you guys want to come over to rehearse some more, come over after ten. I need a break between now and work.” “Got it, I’ll bring the pizza,” Laila informs before leaving with Debra and Viola. Kiara returns from the bathroom and approaches Y/N, looking nervously between the stage and her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it, Kie,” she laments. Kiara notices the way the singer avoids eye contact. The PA shakes her head, “You’ve been burying this within you for almost a decade. That isn’t healthy.” “I have no idea what you are talking about. It is perfectly fine to not talk about it. And for your information, I interacted with him on the first competition night. I would say that counts as acknowledging it,” she contends. Kiara’s head tilts to give Y/N a pointed look.

“I overheard that conversation. You were just being nice because the audience could see you.”

“You can’t deny that I was being nice. So I say it counts.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean, Y/N/N. You aren’t only hurting him by leaving things unsolved, but yourself. The more you avoid getting closure, the more you come up with your own explanation for his actions. Those are always going to be worse than the truth. Think about it, not for him. For you.”

Kie doesn’t wait for an answer and it leaves Y/N to think about the impact of her friend's words. She chances a glance to where the music is coming from before heading home. The world is drowned out by the music playing in her headphones, filling in the space where her thoughts should populate. Everyone believes she has to speak to him; they lecture her on the importance of learning the full story. It is rich of them to say all those things when they aren’t the ones who Rafe pained. He didn’t even have the decency to say he was sorry after she confronted him. All he had to present to her were countless excuses. So they don’t get to have an input on how she deals with her shit because she is dealing with it. Through her writing. Out of Rafe and Y/N, she has always been the one more attuned to writing. Rafe can write good songs, he just isn’t as in love with the process as she is. Once her headphones come off at home, she rushes to her bedside drawer, pulling out a beaten-up notebook. She flips through countless songs about him. Every single one was written when she couldn’t contain how she felt. She finally gets to the picture of them she uses as a bookmark. It is the same one he taped onto his wall when they were fifteen. She couldn’t bring herself to take anything else of him during her move. As soon as the pen hits the paper, everything she has been bundling up inside falls onto the page.

———

He had asked her out. Rafe asked her out and she said yes. It had been a game of cat and mouse, them going back and forth on whether or not they should risk their friendship for something more. Spoiler alter, it wasn’t going to be. She didn’t know that though. At the moment, she was focused on getting to band practice. The cold evening breeze caused her to wrap her zip-up hoodie around her body by holding it against her waist. She drops her phone right as she gets to the opening of Topper’s garage. Something she overhears while picking up her phone makes her delay her entry to the room. “I heard you are going on a date with Y/N.” It was a high-pitched voice that could only belong to Samantha. Y/N wasn’t the biggest fan of Samantha. The Kook had a permanent judgmental face in her presence and she could hear the repugnance lacing the question.

Y/N expected her best friend to hear the same tone and defend her. It never happened. “Listen, I didn’t want to do it. I got tired of her doing that pathetic mopey-eyed shit. She was begging for me to ask her out, so I did to stop her pestering. Trust me, I could never willingly date a Pogue.” Suddenly, her heart popped under the weight of the tire and he continued to smear her most vital organ across the road with every laugh he let out. What added to her decimation was that her other bandmates joined in her mocking. During their friendship, they had never made her feel different because of what side of the island she was born on. She thought they didn’t care about the number in her bank account; apparently, they did. She wondered how many lies they told her. Was everything they ever paid for for her because they pitied her? Were they truly her friend? She stepped back to leave, not having the courage to face the most important people in her life until Rafe said something that turned her agony to rage. “What about that stupid saying her mom always said that she lives by. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. It is so ridiculous. One. Not everything talks. Two. Does she believe that a life outside of the cut is meant for her? Y/N is so delusional.” Samantha let out a cackle. This was the ultimate betrayal.

She stormed into the room, letting the boys’ height tower over her. The faint smell of weed permeated the air. With the number of times they smoked in here, she was surprised the fabric of the light brown couch didn’t permanently smell like the drug. Topper’s garage wasn’t what most people would imagine for a place to park a car. It made sense though because his family didn’t keep their cars in this garage. They had another small building to house their vehicles in true Kook fashion. This room was a modern finished room, perfectly equipped for whatever Topper’s new hobby was and it happened that his hobby for the past year was being in a band. Rafe could see the fury in her eyes and knew she heard everything they said. He felt horrible. In an ignorant teenage boy fashion, he said anything he could to get laughter out of his friends, creating the biggest mistake of his life. Time needed to rewind, so he could say what he should’ve. The way she looked at him buried him in regret. His desire to take her into his arms for her comfort was trumped by the knowledge that she would chew his head off. “How can you say those things about my mother? The fact that you would ridicule her after she treated you like her own son is sickening. You didn’t deserve her love and she would be disappointed in who you turned out to be. So would your own mom because the Margaret Cameron I know would be ashamed at how you just talked about her dead friend and your presumed best friend,” she fired. He could make glass out of sand with the way she scorched him. His mind zipped around with ways to apologize and make things better, yet his dumb hormonal self advised him to keep digging. She was outnumbered after all.

“Playing the mom card, how depressing. No, I think my mom would be proud of me. She never liked you anyway. How could she? All you are is a sad little poor Pogue.”

Lies. Margaret adored Y/N, loving getting to sing with the little girl. The laughs from the Kooks fueled his outer confidence, while his heart was being grated into millions of pieces. She froze; her face contorting into a pout. He spotted the wobble of her lip and the hitching of her breath. His feet shuffled forward a micro-inch, wanting to wipe away her despair. She took a deep breath. Silence seeped into the air. The tension thickened like trying to swim in a pool of peanut butter. She held her head high as she spun to leave, refusing to let them see her misery.

———

Another competition night passes with the survival of Just Wanna Have Fun and the Melodies. The venue hall is practically empty, except for a few stray people. While the rest of the girls go home, Y/N stays behind to get some downtime alone in the rehearsal room. Being in the Battle of The Bands with Rafe is proving to be harder than she thought. They haven’t had another conversation, but their proximity puts her on edge. Her footsteps echo in the hallway as she leaves the bathroom. Headphones cover her ears, distracting her from the presence behind her. A tap on her shoulder causes her to twirl around. A skinny man with a sad excuse for a beard leers at her. He is wearing The Melodies’ merch and gives her a gut-twisting smile. Suddenly, she feels uneasy because of the lack of people in the building. Time droops as his thin fingers encase her wrist. She tries to yank her arm out; his baby-like grip impedes her attempt. “You have such a beautiful voice,” he mumbles. The usual compliment doesn’t have the same effect coming from a man who looks at her in such an objectified manner.

“You need to let go,” she orders, having no obligation to acknowledge the content of his words. His hand further coils around her skin, “I said something nice about you. The least you can do is say thank you.” Fear sets in when his other hand reaches for his belt and he begins to drag her toward the bathroom. An arm hooks around the delusional man’s neck, causing him to stop and jerk her backwards. She quickly recognizes the thick bicep. “Let go of her,” Rafe growls in the assaulter’s ear. Relief flushes her at the release of weight from her wrist. “Rock Star, go get security and go back to the practice room.” Her mind goes on autopilot and follows his instructions, overlooking the manner in which he knows why she is here late.

Once security is sent to aid Rafe, she returns to the instrument-filled room. Her attention is on the blue acoustic guitar resting in its case close to the metal stool. She picks up the guitar and takes a seat. Her fingers press against the string on the neck and her other hand strumms to create the chord. The lyrics she wrote so long ago flow out of her.

“You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You said I was priceless but you really meant worthless. It took you a second To pretend I was nothing Guess I should’ve known That you were always a liar.”

Rafe's back rests against the stone, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and down his face. He was going to go in to check in on her but hesitates to fall through. She needs to say something to the universe and for once, Rafe isn’t going to take that away from her. He saw the way the bounce of her foot disappeared with the song. Instead, he plans to give her exactly what she needs. The guys are going to hate him for this.

———

The crowd is electric as Rafe takes a second to breathe. He looks around the venue, searching to see if she is in the section for the musicians to watch the show. His eyes connect with Y/N’s. He can carry on with his plan. He rests a hand on the microphone and adjusts the earpiece in his ear. The mic stand tilts while he brings the mic closer to his mouth, “This next one is new. It’s not on any of our albums, but it is something that is long overdue.” He flicks his head toward Topper to start playing the song they worked all week to perfect in time. Rafe’s head bobs to the beat of the drum, waiting for his queue to jump in. He starts singing at the same time he strums the first chord.

“I've gotta right my wrongs With you is where I belong You've been down from the go Recognition is what you want And it's something that I should know Something that I should know All the things that you went through I never meant to put you through it twice, no Tell me how can I right my wrongs That's something that I should know All the things that we been through I never meant to put you through it twice, oh no”

His eyes flicker to her and his heart drops at the tears running down her round cheeks. Every part inside of him wants to stop playing when he sees her go backstage. He gets through the set and the rest of the guys say goodbye to their fans. He is too distracted to give it his full attention. Once backstage, he removes his guitar and weaves through the crew and other musicians in a jog to get to the musicians’ lounge. Disappointment crosses him when he can’t find her. He spots Kie and runs over to his sister’s friend. “Where did she go?” he interrogates, eyes frantically scanning the room for her. Kiara’s eyes roll, “You seriously expect me to tell you after the stunt you just pulled.” His hands clasp together in a shake. “Please, Kie. I needed to do it. She had to know how sorry I was and music has always been our way to connect. It felt right,” he explains, trying to resist the urge to drop to his knees in front of everyone.

“It’s seven years too late, Rafe.”

“It’s only too late unless one of us is dead. I need to make sure she is okay. That she knows I mean what I wrote.”

“I don’t think you are begging enough.”

His head goes crooked and he follows her gaze to the floor. He swallows his pride and gets onto his knees, “Please, Kiara Carrera. Tell me where Y/N is.” Kie smiles in satisfaction. “I won’t tell you where she lives, but I will tell you where she works and you can keep going there until you happen to be there when she works,” Kiara grants, typing the location into his phone.

———

The clouds outside make the afternoon dark, adding to Rafe’s loss of hope of not seeing Y/N. The news said it was supposed to rain tonight, but it said that about every day this week and it was wrong. There is a small skip in his step as he reaches for the handle of the coffee shop. An elderly lady stands in the doorway he opened, so he steps back and allows her to pass him. She gives him a small smile as she does. Freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of steam coming from the machine strike his senses. Lydia at the counter recognizes him and begins making his usual before he gets to the register. TJ already has his order punched into the system when he gets there. All Rafe has to do is pay. Once that is done, he sits at a booth sitting along the right wall to wait for his drink. This allows him to see the counter and the front door at the same time. He has been to the cafe every day this week. He only leaves when they close or when he has to practice at the venue. A week isn’t long, yet it still allows him to get to know the people working there. They couldn’t disclose when Y/N is working for privacy issues and he understood why. He would be more concerned if they did tell him no matter who he claimed to be. His name is called and goes up to get it. He reseats himself, opening his laptop to keep himself occupied.

Lavender. It overpowers him in a good way. He glances toward the front door and she is there, walking further into the store with the most dazzling smile directed toward Lydia. “Look who finally showed up to work,” the barista calls out. Y/N laughs, “I haven’t been scheduled to work. You know that, Silly.” “I know. Work just goes a little slower without my work wife here to keep me company,” Lydia complains with a grin. Y/N hasn’t noticed him and a part of him wishes she never will so she never loses the joy he hasn’t gotten to see since he was sixteen. He considers ducking out before she can see him, except Lydia has other plans. “Oh, by the way, this guy has been coming in every day to see you. He’s sitting over there.” Y/N’s eyes follow Lydia’s finger to where Rafe sits.

She sighs, “My shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Is it okay if I…” TJ answers for the barista. “Yeah, take your time.” Y/N’s head bobs and she pulls the hood off from her head. The KCHS written across her chest causes his heart to ache. He gave her some of the money so that she could buy the hoodie. She must not have remembered that fact if she kept it. Her path turns to his table and she settles herself in the seat across from him. “The nerve you have to sing that apology like it can solve all of our problems and then stalk me at my place of work,” she grits through her teeth. He bites the corner of his lip, “Music was always how we connected. And I wanted to make sure you were okay. You ran off during my set.”

“You don’t get to pretend like we still have music after what you said about our mothers. You gave that right up a long time ago. You also aren’t allowed to pretend you care for me.”

He reaches out for her hand and she yanks it away. “The things that I said… They were my greatest mistake. I have never forgiven myself for not apologizing on the spot and I don’t expect you to do so either. I do hope that you know that I regret every single word I uttered that day, Rock Star,” he pleads. He tries to meet her eye, but she averts her gaze. “The world has been a much darker place since you left. I am so sorry that I caused you the pain that I did. I would do anything in this universe to tell my younger self to tell you the truth that day.” She can’t help herself, “And what was the truth, Rafe?” “That even though we hadn’t been on our date yet, I was madly in love with you. I love you with every fibre in my being and it scared me because I knew how much it would hurt if I lost you. Not only that, I was just a teen and stupid enough to think getting a laugh out of my friends was better than facing something new. I had never been so wrong in my entire life.” Her eyes gloss over and checks the time on her phone. She stands up without another word, breaking Rafe’s heart as she walks to the back room.

The air comes out of his nose in high pressure. He understands her message and leaves Y/N’s place of work. It is hard to process the words he said. Her younger self would’ve loved to hear his declaration of love. She would’ve been so excited. A small part of her heart flutters at the reveal, no matter how angry she is at him. The worst is she genuinely believes he is remorseful of his actions.

Their issues couldn’t be fixed with one small apology; however, she would never forgive herself if she never saw where this could go. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take my break right now,” she informs her co-workers, not waiting for answers. She takes off her apron and throws it onto the ground. She runs out the door in hopes she can still catch him. The crowd makes her question her belief until she spots the blue flannel he is wearing. She threads herself through the people and is met with resistance. “RAFE,” she yells out. He freezes, spinning around to see her. He pushes his way to her and they stand before each other as wet spatters begin to hit their heads. He chances resting his hands on her elbow, delighting when she doesn’t flinch away from him. “I think I forgive you,” she says. The patter from the rain drowns out her words, so he places his forehead against hers to hear her better. His smirk reveals he does have an inkling of what she confessed, “What did you say?” She knows the game he is playing and rolls her eyes. “Forget it, I’m just going to go back to work,” she snarks, turning away to head back to the cafe. Rafe catches her wrist and tugs her against his chest.

Their lips finally connect in the way they have been waiting for for twenty-three years. Her soft petals press hard against him like a rock. He reciprocates the pressure, running his tongue along her lips to ask for entrance. The rainwater mixes in with their saliva as she allows him in. He remembers the jet ski that once drowned him and pulled away. “What about Knox?” he questions. She stares at him with big eyes, “We were never really dating. He is Viola’s brother. He knows our history and thought it would be fun to play around with you to keep you away.”

“I see. That didn’t work out as you guys had planned, did it? I don’t think anything can keep me away from you once I realize how stupid I was.”

“No it did not… You need to know that just because I forgave you doesn’t mean everything is back to normal. We can’t go back to pretending that we are still the people we used to be. I’m not the girl I was seven years ago and you’ll have to regain my trust.”

“And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to gain back what I broke. As long as I can be by your side.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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slytherheign · 6 months

Text

DAYLIGHT | charles leclerc

PART 2/3 OF LOVER: THE TRILOGY.

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

SUMMARY: amidst the dark nights, you find that one glimmer of hope—the light that shines and the one who stays. it’s morning now, and you only see daylight.

WARNINGS: angst, hate, cheating (past relationship), doubts, and hints of smut. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. dedicated to @paperplane93, i hope you’re having a great day!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO TO TRILOGY MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Love was as cruel as the cities you lived in.

It was a journey you'd been on countless times before, but each time, it seemed to slip through your fingers like sand, leaving you feeling like shattered glass. Past relationships have taught you bittersweet lessons, dousing the flames of hope and leaving behind a trail of broken dreams.

Everyone looked worse in the light—everyone, including you. The town’s kind, innocent, smart, pretty little girl who turned into a rebel once she packed her bags, left the door, and stepped into the light given by the outside.

There were so many lines you have crossed unforgiven. You left everything behind and never looked back as if you didn’t care. Your old friends and your family have finally called, you answered them but once they said what they wanted to say, you ended the calls and blocked them all. The conversation was always the same anyway—them trying to convince you to come back and warning you that what you were doing would lead to failure.

There was also someone you loved before Charles, someone you loved truly and sacrificed a lot for. It didn’t end well when you saw him kissing your old best friend. He apologized and begged for your forgiveness, and because you loved him so much, you gave him another chance. It took you a long while to realize he was blinding you with lies. When you caught him cheating again, you ran away, never to turn back to him ever again. The luck of the draw only draws the unlucky. And so, you became the butt of the joke.

You were mocked for your naive gambles, ridiculed for your missteps, and left with a haunting regret that you wounded the good and trusted the wicked. It seemed as though every step you took to clear the air, to make things right, only lured you further into the haze of smoke, choking you with the consequences of your choices. You have moved on from your past, never wanting to remember it again. The only thing you took with you were the memories and lessons of your mother you held dear. Your mother would be so mad if she knew you were choosing to forget where you came from, but it was what you needed to do if you wanted to be free. In clearing the air, you breathed in the smoke.

You believed that love was a journey, a rollercoaster of emotions, where the highs were exhilarating and the lows were heart-wrenching. But as time passed, the uncertainties crept in, weaving doubts within your mind like persistent cobwebs. You began to question if love was nothing more than a shimmering illusion teasing you from a distance.

You've mourned over shattered hopes and dreams, clinging to the emotional debris of past relationships. Each heartbreak left you more hesitant, more fearful of falling again. You became convinced that love was a game of chance, an unwinnable lottery that mocked your attempts at finding happiness.

But then, just when you had resigned yourself to a life of solitude, someone unexpectedly entered your life. His name was Charles, and he carried a light that danced within his eyes—a light that you hadn't seen in years.

You didn't want to look at anything else now that you saw him.

His presence illuminated the shadows within you—dissolving your doubts and fears. He saw beyond your scars and unraveled the tapestry of your soul. His patience and understanding breathed life into your broken spirit, assuring you that love could be different this time.

Slowly but surely, Charles guided you through the remnants of past hurt, showing you that vulnerability wasn't synonymous with weakness. Together, you wove a delicate tapestry of trust, honesty, and shared dreams. With each passing day, the walls you had built around your heart crumbled and exposed your true self to him.

In his arms, you discovered a love that was both gentle and fierce, a love that healed past wounds and ignited a sense of hope within you. He listened, truly listened, to the tremors of your heart, and matched them with his own desires. Your love wasn't perfect—no love ever was—but it was real and authentic.

You didn't want to think of anything else now that you thought of him.

With Charles, the idea of true love shifted in your mind. It was no longer an unattainable fantasy but a tangible reality—a reality that blossomed when two souls found solace in each other's embrace. He reminded you that your worthiness of love wasn't determined by your past failures but by the relentless hope you held within.

Through him, you learned that true love isn't a fluke or a mere stroke of luck. It was a conscious choice, an endless commitment to nurture and cherish a connection beyond what society deemed acceptable.

You'd been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night.

In the past, you've allowed your vision to become clouded by the remnants of failed connections and relationships. You wandered the murky path of love with blinders on, seeking validation and approval from old friends and family. You desperately tried to fit into molds that suffocated you.

And now you saw daylight.

With Charles, everything felt different. His arrival into your life was like the first rays of sunlight after a long and relentless storm. You realized that all the heartbreaks and disappointments were not indicators of your worth. They were simply stepping stones, guiding you towards something that rose above anything you've ever experienced.

You've stormed out of every single room in your old town, left it without even saying goodbye. And you knew he wasn't perfect too. He had a past full of pain and losses. He made his career his focus, because every time he was racing, the voices in his head were drowned out by the noise of his car. He ran with the wolves and refused to settle down.

You found solace, understanding, and acceptance with each other. The dark nights were over the moment you found him and he found you. You threw out your cloaks and your daggers because it was morning now. It was brighter now.

You were laughing so hard as Charles tickled your stomach. He pressed kisses to your neck down to your chest to where your heart was. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love and desire.

“Can I have you tonight, chérie?” he asked.

You nodded, eyes mirroring the desire in his. “You can have me any day and any night.”

You could see it all.

All of him, all of you, intertwined.

You once believed love would be black and white.

But it was golden.

“I love you,” he said in between his breaths. His forehead touched yours, a hand caressing your cheek as you both danced to a rhythm of love.

You opened your eyes to stare at his. “I love you too, Charles.”

You could see it all in your head.

Back and forth from Monaco, sneaking into his bed.

You once believed love would be burning red.

But it was golden like daylight.

It was morning now. It was brighter, it was better, and it was worth the 20-year dark night you experienced before. You were learning and growing together. He defined you by the things you loved, not by the things you were afraid of or the things that haunted you in the middle of the night. For him, you were what you loved.

You were only seeing daylight.

And it was him.

It was Charles.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, carlossainz55, and 998, 753 others

charles_leclerc Happy 2nd year anniversary, my daylight. @yourusername

view all 267, 890 comments

pierregasly a hard launch, finally

leclercsainz HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN PIERRE

pierregasly a couple months after they met

leclercsainz WHAT

cl16lover I JUST WOKE UP HELP

redleclerc NO CAUSE SAME

chilisainz CHARLES HARD LAUNCHING A SECRET 2 YEAR RELATIONSHIP WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD

forzaferrari i’m more surprised he was able to keep a secret this long tbh

chewie1644 MY DAYLIGHT EXCUSE ME GOODBYE

chilisainz fr i need someone to call me their daylight too

c2defender WHO IS THE GIRL

leclover someone on twitter posted a thread about her and it’s not looking good, yikes

c2defender omg why?

leclover apparently she abandoned her family or something

lestappensz yall should check the twitter thread about her

carlossaints drop the @ bestie

lestappensz i think it’s @charlesleclairs

simplylovely stop we don’t even know if any of those things are true

lestappensz girl i’m pretty sure her brother commented and confirmed everything was true

charlesleclairs LEAVE HER BEFORE SHE LEAVES YOU LIKE SHE LEFT HER FAMILY

You stepped into the daylight and let it all go.

The sky was painted with hues of hope, and your hearts were filled with a newfound understanding.

You just hoped the afterglow would be the same.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

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cutielando · 4 months

Text

comfort ~ rafe cameron

my masterlist

Loving someone who continuously hurt you throughout your entire life was peculiar. Rafe knew that better than any other person.

Ward Cameron had done nothing but belittle his son his entire life, making him feel unwanted and unloved when all he should have done was love the broken boy.

And yet, despite even your ability to understand it, Rafe still loved him. Afterall, Ward was his father and nothing he could do could change that.

When his father died, Rafe didn't know how to feel, initially.

Should he be sad? Should he be angry? Does he have to mourn? Can he mourn, seeing as his father had many every waking second of his life unbearable?

Rafe didn't know what to do, and you didn't know what to do either.

Ever since the moment he died, the atmosphere at Tannyhill had been very strange. You tried your best to be there for your boyfriend, being his shoulder to cry on if he needed or just simply being there to help him and help him forget.

Whatever he needed, you were more than ready and happy to provide.

But if he didn't know how he felt himself, how were you supposed to know what he needed?

That was the million dollar question.

No matter how many times you tried to approach the subject, Rafe seemed more distant than ever.

"Baby? Don't you want to take a break? You've been working for hours on end" you tried to coax Rafe one night as he sat at his father's desk, dozens of papers scattered around on the big table.

He had been working constantly, trying to organize and structure his father's, now his own, company.

"I'll come to bed in a couple of minutes" he mumbled, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it without even looking at you.

You sighed and turned his head to the side so he could look at you.

Inspecting his facial features, the bags under his eyes had become a permanent thing ever since Ward's passing, the boy not being able to get more than a handful of hours of sleep at night.

"Baby, you're overworking yourself. I'm really worried about you, my love. Are you sure you're doing okay? You're sure you don't want to talk?" you were running a hand through his hair and with another one you were tracing meaningless shapes on the side of his face, observing as Rafe's eyes fluttered close and he leaned into your touch.

"I'm sure. I promise, I'll come to bed soon" he said and kissed you quickly before getting back to work.

You sighed but nodded, pecking his head once more before finally turning around and leaving the office.

He hadn't come to bed that night until 2 hours later, sinking into the soft bed and attaching himself to your body, holding you close to him.

Unknown to you, that was the only comfort he could feel in the dead of the night when he couldn't sleep, the feeling of your body pressed against his, telling him that you were there and you weren't going anywhere.

The same routine continued for another couple of days, then turning into weeks until the anniversary of 6 weeks from Ward's death came around.

You had gone shopping with Wheezie in Chapel Hill for the day, trying to get the young's girl mind off of everything she had been through in the last couple of weeks.

Upon returning home, you weren't surprised to see Rafe's truck parked in front of the huge mansion, seemingly in the same spot it had been when you had left that morning.

However, as soon as you entered through the front door and saw the mess leading from the kitchen to the living room, your heart instantly dropped to your stomach.

Quickly figuring out what could have happened, you told Wheezie to go to her room and not get out until you would go and get her.

As soon as she was out of sight, you slowly made your way to the living room, carefully avoiding the broken glass that decorated the floor.

"Rafe? Baby?" you called out.

"In here" Rafe grumbled from the couch in the living room, his head in his hands.

The moment you laid eyes on your boyfriend, your heart broke into a million pieces.

He was holding his head with his hands, tugging at his hair with tears streaming down his cheeks. In front of him, on the coffee table, sat a picture of him and his father, one of the few they had taken over the years while the older man had still been alive.

"Oh, baby" you exclaimed as you hurried to sit next to him and pull him in your arms, hugging him tightly and closely to your chest.

He immediately buried his head in your chest, sobs wrecking his fragile body. You started whispering sweet nothings in his ear, pressing kisses on every inch of his face that you could reach.

Hearing your boyfriend's broken sobs triggered your own tears, your heart breaking even more for the poor boy.

"I miss him" he croaked out between sobs, his voice hoarse and raspy from all the crying.

"I know you do, baby. I know" you said, running your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead multiple times.

After a couple of more minutes, he slowly started to calm down, his sobs now turned into sniffles until they stopped completely. But he didn't pull away, now needing more than ever to feel you there with him.

"Does that make me a terrible person?" his voice was no louder than a whisper, making it a little difficult for you to hear him.

"God, no, Rafe. He was your father, missing him is freaking normal no matter what anyone else says"

"I know that, but everybody keeps saying he got what he deserved. I know he was a terrible man, especially in the last few months before he died, but he was still my dad and I should be allowed to miss him without people judging me for it" he explained, slightly letting go of the iron grip he had on you.

You took his face in your hands, wiping the last tears that had fallen from his eyes.

"No matter what anyone says, he was your father and you miss him. There is nothing with that and you shouldn't feel guilty. You're allowed to feel, Rafe. Please don't shut me out and let me help you get through this. You don't have to do it alone, I'm not going anywhere"

He slowly nodded and pulled you in for a hug, repositioning the two of you so you were straddling his lap and clinging to him like a koala bear.

"I love you so fucking much, you know that?" he whispered in your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

"I love you too" you whispered back, kissing the nape of his neck before tightening your hold on him.

You stayed like that for a long time, just savoring being together and overcoming this obstacle together.

Because, at the end of the way, you only found comfort in one another.

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kometqh · 1 month

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𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧

Fives x F!Reader x Echo Pt. 1 After the events of the Citadel, Fives is forced to embark on a journey - inform people of Echo's passing. Fives knew his brother like the inside of his pocket, but who knew Echo had been hiding a gem all this time? Certainly not Fives. Word Count: 2886 Warnings: Echo's death, swearing, sad Fives, alcohol consumption A/N: I'm missing fives because he didn't get enough screen time and it's called 'The Clone Wars' for a reason :c

"I'm sorry," His voice carried a certain lightness to it, spinning in your ear canal like a pearly white feather on a windy, gloomy day. Though his words, oh his words, they pierced through your heart like a rusty dagger, the bitter metal permeating through the organ like a chartreuse, acidic poison. "There was nothing we could do to save him."

You were always afraid that one day, after a long, dreadful mission, he just wouldn't be back.

No matter how many times your best friend reassured you, that fear just lingered somewhere deep within your subconscious, sharpening its' shiny black talons, awaiting the day it could re-emerge into your heart.

Fives swallowed harshly, counting down the number of awfully loud heartbeats echoing in his head. He could feel a tension headache rising as he eyed you wearily, ready to offer comfort if you were to start crying, or having a go at him.

Your lack of response worried him. It was like you knew as soon as the door opened, his fist stuck in mid-air as the gears turned in his head. By the time he had gone over the pleasantries and the uncomfortable silence, your eyes had seemingly lost their spark, your face paled in the early sunshine of the Coruscantian morning, and your voice lost that high-pitched note to it when you spoke.

And now, here he was, his neck feeling awfully warm, his gut twisting as he thought of every whichever way to escape this hellhole. He hadn't even had the time to mourn his brothers death, yet alone truly understand it and now he had to go making rounds to people, informing them of it?

The Republic was cruel, and shitty, and full of shit and-

"H-How did he..?" His gaze was laser focused on his hands, the tension in his shoulders worsening as he looked up from his lap. You had unshed tears trudging the edges of your waterline, your eyelashes already wet from having to blink away thick, hopeless tears.

The green of the wallpaper that peered round the corner seemed much more inviting to look at than your eyes were, Fives thought. The colour was that of pine trees, lighter swirls of white decorating the expanse of the wall behind you. It used to be Echo's favourite colour. His brother always said how it brought joy for him to see that dreaded colour, how it always made him feel hopeful in an otherwise unsure battle. Fives, even though having made fun of Echo for being such a sap, had also secretly shared the same opinion.

But now all he felt when he saw the colour was disgust, nausea, and worst of all, guilt.

"Fives..?" Your voice gently lulled him out of his thoughts, like a lighthouse at sea, calling out to his ship, and his eyes widened as he realised you had reached your hand over to his, your thumb rubbing at his armoured forearm. Kriff, he didn't even take his bloody armour off.

His lips opened and closed, his eyelashes fluttering as Fives tried to map his way around, trying to find the right words to say.

Eventually, he settled on a fairly common pair.

"I-I'm sorry," He winced at the shakiness of his voice, scrunching his eyes shut. How the hell was he supposed to say it? For some odd reason, you were the one comforting him, rather than the other way around. What kind of soldier was he? What kind of man was he?

"He.. He died heroically," His voice was soft, trembling. Fives couldn't bring himself to speak any louder, afraid that the deeply buried emotions in his chest would come crashing down, like waves against a rocky shore, "He was the bravest man on that battlefield, ready and willing to do anything to complete the mission. He was so.. He was so inspiring. What happened next.. I- I couldn't get to him.. in time." He took in a shallow, shaky breath, forcing his eyes shut as tears began to prickle at his eyes.

"I couldn't save him."

"Fives it's-"

"The droid blasted the ship just as he reached the entrance and I wanted to help him, to get him out of there, but someone screamed my name and all I remember is seeing his body fly, and his helmet drop at my feet. I wish it were me instead of-"

"He would never forgive himself for that and you know it." Your voice tore through his tangent, sharp, snappy and cold as ice. It was as if you had thrown cold water in his face. You knew Echo, you knew he would never let his brother sacrifice himself for him, "He was a good soldier and he died as one." You whispered, peering down at the man seated in your small, pale yellow kitchen.

The wrinkles on his forehead and the tired bags under his eyes told you everything. He desperately needed a safe place, and some well deserved rest.

Has he even had the time to process Echo's death? You truly doubted it just by seeing his reluctance, the difficulty he felt of talking about this. As though it was the first time.

You couldn't let Fives go back to the GAR. Not in this condition, not yet. You were afraid he would simply shut down if he were surrounded by countless faces and voices, similar and the same as Echo's. He would have constant nightmares, constant night terrors, constant guilt.

But what about you? What about your time alone, your time to process the news of your best friends death?

That wasn't your priority right now, you could wallow in the bubbling feelings of grief and despair after you've taken care of his brother, his twin.

Taking in a deep breath, you kneeled beside Fives, placing a reassuring hand on his thigh.

"Stay here for the night. You can be gone by morning and we never have to talk of this again." You offered, squeezing his thigh to get his attention. You could tell by the way his eyes widened that he wasn't expecting such an offer, and by the quick downturn of his lips, that he was about to reject it.

"It's not for my comfort, it's for your own," You interjected, determination seeping from each word you said, "I- I don't think you'll be able to sleep there-" You paused, getting up from the floor with a huff, "Here's the plan; I'll draw you a bath, make you some food and then you can go sleep in my room, how's that?" You asked, leaning against the countertop behind you.

A few moments of silence passed, Fives completely stunned and speechless. Where was Echo hiding this.. t-this gem? He had never met such a compassionate woman, person, ever.

All he was familiar with were the one night stands with numerous different women he'd met at 79s. Did Echo meet you there too? Were you really just friends?

Shaking his head, Fives stood up from his seat, looking, no, glaring at that stupidly green wallpaper behind you. At that grisly irritating reminder of hope. Of Echo. "I-I couldn't take such a-advantage of your kindness, ma'am. I appreciate it, but I'll be fine." He stated.

A frown replaced the hopefulness on your face as you noticed the awful change in his demeanour. You weren't talking to Fives, the man, anymore. No, you were talking to Fives the ARC Trooper, CT-5555. You could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed, how his gaze hardened, how his chest puffed up and his shoulders stood to attention.

He's just like Echo.

Neither men preferred to face the difficulty of opening up to others, you noted. But whilst Echo would stutter and refuse, Fives completely shut down, solidified into a steel-strong soldier. But neither of them seemed to like accepting help, whether it be from a friend or a stranger.

Funny.

They truly were like twins, born of the same strand of DNA, or whatever the Kaminoans did, you thought.

With a heavy, disapproving sigh, you gave a slight nod of your head.

It seemed to surprise Fives, as you noticed that momentarily, miniscule raise of his thick brows. He definitely wanted you to be more pushy, but you had learned from Echo that that often led to nowhere.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? Anyone else to inform?" Your voice was soft when it reached his ears, and a defeated expression rested on your face. Since you wouldn't need to take care of Fives, your mind felt at ease enough to let in the new, yet still familiar feelings.

It took him a moment to respond, his throat having gone completely dry.

"Just a couple of friends, really. You were number one on that list so.. I- I guess I'll leave you to it." He half muttered, looking up at you. The kitchens' yellowy dandelion wallpaper behind your frame did very little to brighten up your features. Instead, it seemed to dull them, deep shadows were casted over your features as you frowned.

"Are you sure? You can stay longer if you'd like-"

"No! No, it's okay. Really. I'm on a tight schedule anyway, y'know, ARC Trooper things and all that." Fives insisted as he finally rose from his seat, rubbing his nape with one hand awkwardly.

This was his chance to get out of there, to escape the stuffy, small kitchen. It was like a rainy cloud had settled itself over your shoulders, and he wanted to be gone by the time it began to pour.

"Alright. I won't keep you here any longer. I-I'm sure you've wasted enough time here already." You muttered out as you followed suit, rising from your seat, albeit slower than Fives.

Did you want to be alone? You weren't too sure. Some of your focus was still locked onto the man before you, worry gnawing away at your conscious. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." You followed up, rounding the rectangular, wooden table seated in the middle of your small kitchen.

Echo used to always nag at you, complaining it was too short for tall people like him. Interestingly enough, Fives had no intention of mentioning the height of the table.

Although Echo had told you many stories about Fives and the Domino Squad, it felt like the two had switched personalities. Your Echo seemed to behave more like Fives when around you, and Fives behaved more like Echo from the stories.

Your arms were crossed over your chest as you led Fives to the door, and you caught a peek of his expression as you quickly peered over your shoulder.

He seemed to tower over you as you bid your goodbyes, thanking him for coming all this way, and wishing for him to stay safe and get well. Your chest felt heavier as you unlocked the door, moving aside, observing him as he stepped out.

The dull greyness of the corridor outside did nothing but crumble any resolve that may have lingered within his chest.

A lone, glaringly white light bulb flickered from time to time, doing very little to actually brighten up the space. It also seemed to wash out Fives' features, make his sun-kissed skin look paler, his eyes more somber, his frown look deadlier.

If anyone were to come by him, they'd tremble on the spot.

The corners of his lips seemed to twitch, just slightly, as he thought over what to say. What do you say to someone you're not sure you'll see again?

Your vocie beat him to is as you bid a short, yet comforting goodbye.

That was it then.

He waved you goodbye as he descended down the stairs, his gaze locking with yours one last time before he disappeared behind the concrete railing.

The distant sound of a hum accompanied your thoughts, the electrical cables working hard to provide light to that narrow corridor, becoming background noise to your running thoughts.

Would he be okay?

Maybe you should have given him your comm number, in case he'd wanna reach out. It was too late though, as his figure had already disappeared down the long staircase, the warmth of his gloved hands still lingering on yours.

The loud boom of the music bounced of the walls of 79s, and Fives' head. It was like a headache that just kept on going, and Fives was refusing to take pain meds, nullifiers. He didn't want the pain to stop. It was the only thing that kept him awake, aware, attentive to the fact that this was reality.

Many of his brothers had died; Domino Squad to be specific. Their deaths were all too sudden, just like Echo's. But he got past them, keeping his brothers memory alive on each and every mission he was sent to. But through all that, he had Echo by his side. And now, Echo was gone.

How was he meant to get over his death?

How was he meant to carry on?

How many of his brothers had gone through the same situation, lost their closest friends? Were forced to continue on into battle as though nothing had happened? Were they really, truly that expendable? Did they not mean anything to the Republic? To the Jedi?

Fives wasn't just a number. Echo wasn't just a number. Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait weren't just numbers. They were men, they were men with feelings and they were men who were filled with hopes and dreams for their futures.

Echo wasn't just a number.

He suppressed a sob as he leaned forward, reaching for another shot glass, the pinkish liquid sparkled in the dim lights of 79s.

Usually, he took his shots with pride.

And now? Now he took them with shame, slamming the clear glass onto the table as he roughly wiped at his eyes. God. It burned so bad. But it also eased the pain, bit by bit until all he felt was fire burning through his lungs, and dizziness tugging at his vision.

He couldn't go back to the GAR in this state. But who cared? He and the 501st had come back, completely and utterly wasted, many times too many. And nobody even batted an eyelash. On Kamino they'd get a thorough discplining, maybe even a smack on the back of the head.

He was sure the old geezers back there would be more than happy to hand his ass back to him.

Kriff it, he thought.

One more shot.

The liquid burned, the taste smacking at his tastebuds like a blaster to the back of his head.

Another.

It went on for long enough for the barman to stop him, shaking his head disapprovingly at the trooper.

Getting up from his seat, Fives wished the liquid tasted as good as it looked. He thanked the barman and made his way to the exit.

Where was he going?

He wasn't sure. He just knew he needed to move. Or rather stumble.

Waking up to loud banging on your front door certainly wasn't your preferred method, but it was definitely an effective one.

"Kriffing hell, what time is it?" You mumbled, rubbing the sleep crust from your tired eyes. The old, digital clock on your bedside table read 0300, in big, bold neon green numbers, casting a gentle green glow on the otherwise pitch-black room.

Your heart pounded wildly, almost as harshly as whatever idiot was pounding on your door at bloody 3AM in the morning.

You already had a hard day, falling into your bedsheets just moments after Fives had left, thick, shiny tears quickly staining the soft material of your duvet a shade darker for the foreseeable future.

"Who do you think you are-" Your voice harshly cut through as you ripped your front door open, leaning forwards, just narrowly missing a black, gloved fist to your face. Your frown quickly dropped as you noticed the idiot behind the awful disruption, and your anger seemed to evaporate into thin air. "Fives?"

As he looked up, the sight of his honey-gold eyes and tear streaked face, had your heart dropping in an instant.

The sound of humming electricity above your head filled the silent hallway, mimicking the white noise inside of Fives's head as his drunken mind tried to scramble up some words.

The smell of strong vodka and whatever else invaded your senses, you couldn't help how fast your hand flew to cover your nose.

"Y/n..- I-I'm sorry-" He hiccupped, pressing one arm onto your doorframe, his figure towering over you. "I couldn't- I couldn't save him, he's dead. He's dead because of me!" Fives gasped out, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears pooled at his waterline.

"What? No no no!" You exclaimed, quickly opening your arms for him to fall into. "Shh, come on, it's okay." You whispered, easing him into your apartment with slow steps. You shut the door behind, seating him down on your sofa before you went back to lock your front door.

His sobs and hiccupped breaths filled the still silence of your small, colourful apartment. Rubbing at your sore eyes, you quickly fetched a glass of water for him before kneeling at his side.

"Here, drink this," You lifted the glass to his lips, letting him take slow sips, "Slowly, you'll feel sick."

You watched him carefully, taking the water away as he gasped out. Your sofa looked too small for the trooper, his frame easily taking up over almost half of the space. A grunt escaped his lips, and panic flooded you.

This way going to be a long night..

#the clone wars #star wars #sw #tcw #sw tcw #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #501st legion #ct 5555 #ct 1409 #echo x reader #clone trooper echo #fives x reader #star wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfiction #captain rex #jedi #angst #fluff

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

sort of a fantasy/ angst scenario i’ve been thinking about… (I love your writing so much - maybe this is something?)

When Steve goes through a misunderstanding and breakup that has him socially exiled, everyone is mad, and feels justified when he disappears - they assume the worst of him and that he just up and left without telling anyone.

Years later - on the tail end of a series of unexplained natural disasters around the world stopping miraculously, he shows up - surrounded by a small group of people with a similar haunted look in their eyes and littered with more scars, maybe a hand that too metallic to be real.

Aka Steve is visited by a group of strangers, claiming he’s some sort of prodigal son of a Prophecy - disappears to end the apocalypse and shows up, years and a full hero's journey later, changed - and the others have the grapple with the fact that they’ve been wrong the entire time.

Or bonus - he never ends up showing up at all - a stranger shows up at their door during a party family gathering, battleworn, letter in hand about a burial taking place at the edge of town at dusk.

This was an INSANELY GOOD request. Like this could easily be a 100k fic, so I hope you're okay with me having very little backstory. I want someone to run with this ASAP. I didn't do the bonus part, but I stuck with a lot of the first part of it. Again, this was so hard to keep short, so I do hope someone makes this AU really deep and really solid. I don't know if you took ideas from a bunch of different fantasy novels or what but man this is gooooood shit. I hope I was able to do at least some of this justice! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------------

Steve Harrington did not give up. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Which is why he was leading his battleworn group back home.

It’s been years since he stepped foot in Hawkins, years of war, disaster, and pain. But walking through the gates of Hawkins was the scariest and bravest thing he’d done in five years.

Dustin limped along next to him, his leg hurt, but not broken. Max was on his other side, left eye blind and left arm broken, but in good spirits overall.

Lucas and Erica fell behind him, both physically fine, but mourning the loss of their parents in the latest earthquake.

Steve had given them an extra day before making the journey back, made sure they had a way to lay their parents to rest despite the chaos surrounding them.

Robin had gone ahead of them to announce his entrance, wanted to make sure that the town was prepared.

When Steve left five years ago, the only people who knew were the people currently with him. They followed him, without question, the moment he said he had to go. They were children when they left, could barely offer anything but their support at first, but over the years grew into the type of soldiers anyone would be lucky to have on their side.

He broke Nancy's heart, he broke his promise to his parents to stay in Hawkins until he turned 21, and the world broke around him.

He made a choice that day, a difficult one, but one he hoped gained him the respect of the people he left behind.

“How are you feeling, Steve?” Dustin asked quietly as they approached the outskirts of town.

“Could be better.”

“Could be worse,” Max added.

That was their answer to everything.

“Steve, wait!”

Robin was running towards them, nearly tripping and falling on her face every few steps. She had incredible aim when it came to shooting and throwing, but ask her to take more than five consecutive steps without tripping or otherwise hurting herself and you would be shit out of luck.

“What is it?”

“You have to wait. It’s bad. It’s real bad.”

She was out of breath, which was odd since she was in surprisingly good shape for someone who couldn’t run.

Steve looked past her, watching as a small group of people on horseback approached.

She turned to see them, then turned back around and let her head fall.

“Shit. Okay. So your parents are dead. Everyone who was ever in power before? Dead. Hopper? Dead.”

Hearing this should have been more upsetting, but Steve was used to losing people. He was used to losing nearly everyone. And to hear that his parents were gone was more a relief than anything else.

He could hear the people talking in the distance, could feel the ground shaking with the efforts of their horses.

There weren’t many, maybe only six or seven, but enough to keep Steve feeling a bit protective of his group.

They were tired. They’d been through enough.

He didn’t want to fight, but he would if he had to.

“Who are they?”

“Soldiers. Everyone that’s left are soldiers or farmers.”

“Steve Harrington! It’s been a while!”

He knew that voice. Not well, and obviously it’s been five years since he’s heard it, but he knew it.

Who was it?

“Interesting that you choose now to show your face again! We survived the worst of everything without you, I’m not sure why you expect us to welcome you with open arms.”

Eddie Munson.

Steve would know those long, curly locks anywhere.

Steve didn’t recognize anyone else with him, but that was probably for the best.

Eddie got up close to his group, but didn’t pull any weapons.

He didn’t want a fight either. Interesting.

Steve lost his hearing in his left ear nearly three years ago, at the same time he lost most of his left arm. He tried not to let it show as a weakness, especially to people who could be a threat, but he was having trouble hearing over the wind blowing.

“I’m sorry for coming somewhat unannounced. We ran out of supplies to write over a month ago, and money to send a messenger even further back.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

They had money. Not much, but enough to get by. Certainly enough for a messenger if needed. Steve just didn’t want them to know that, not if they were desperate for things like he suspected.

He wanted to help, not give away everything he had.

“If I let you in town, you’ll be dead by morning.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everyone blames you for everything. You left and we had a flash flood the next day that took out half our crops. A week later, half the town fell ill with an unknown plague that killed almost everyone who caught it. The earthquakes took what little we had left and that was before the looting from surrounding towns attacked us for months on end. You were nowhere to be found. Our “golden child” couldn’t bother to come help us. Forgive me for being hesitant to want you around now,” Eddie snarled.

Steve could see the way everyone behind him reacted to Eddie’s words, could feel the worry coming from his own group.

They didn’t deserve this.

“All I ask is you allow my soldiers here back to their families. I’ll be on my way by morning and won’t use any resources. Lucas and Erica lost their parents and will be staying with Dustin.”

Eddie looked them all over, frown on his face.

“Dustin? Henderson?”

“That’s me,” Dustin piped up, always braver than people expected him to be.

“Claudia’s son? She thought you died.”

Steve could hear the emotion in his voice, like he’d had to say that too often, like it was true too often.

“I almost did many times, but I’m here.”

“She’ll be pleased to see you,” Eddie said, though his voice sounded different, a bit more emotion behind the words. “And you?” He turned to Max.

“Only her mom is alive as far as we know,” Steve supplied the bare minimum.

They heard a lot of things, but didn’t know how old the news was by the time it reached them.

“Mayfield?” A man from behind Eddie asked. “I recognize the hair. Your mom’s been workin’ at the pub. Serves beer to the soldiers at the end of their shifts.”

“Sounds like her.”

Max wasn’t all that fond of her mom, never had been, but she still wanted to be reunited with her, even if only temporarily.

Steve had been telling the truth about only staying until everyone in his group had found their home. He knew even before coming that he didn’t want to go back to his own.

“Robin wishes to find work here, settle away from her own home. It’s not safe for her there. She’s a fantastic shot and knows many languages, could be useful as a soldier or a teacher,” Steve hadn’t let Robin know ahead of time that he didn’t plan on staying. She was under the impression before now that they would settle here together, maybe find wives and share a farm. “All I ask is that she gets a fresh start and is not associated with my name.”

“Why do you think you’re in any position to ask for favors?”

“I’m not. I realize that asking for any favors is asking too much. I’m just doing what I can to help the people who have helped me for years.”

Steve watched as Eddie considered, clearly taking into consideration the fact that everyone surrounding Steve had someone waiting for them in town, whether they knew it or not.

“You’ll all come with us. Including you, Steve. But you will stay with me for the night so that no harm comes to you. Many people in this town wish you dead.”

“Including you?”

“To be determined.”

Eddie turned on his horse, and the rest of his group followed.

Steve nudged everyone forward, hoping that by putting them first, he could avoid questions from them.

But that was easier said than done.

“You didn’t say you were only planning to stay one night!” Dustin whisper yelled.

“You were going to leave us?” Erica asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“What if something bad happened when you left?” Lucas added.

Robin was busy helping Max along the rocky path, but she kept sending glares at him over her shoulder.

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome here. You all deserve to be here with your family and friends. I can find a new place.”

“What about us?”

He ignored the question.

They would be fine, and he would be…well, probably not fine, but alive.

They followed Eddie and his group in silence after that.

When they got closer to the main road, Eddie stopped and hopped off his horse.

“The guys will take the rest of you into town. Steve will need to sneak in. This is not up for discussion and if you don’t agree, you can leave.”

Steve gave everyone a look that said if they tried to argue, he would cut their arms off. He wouldn’t, but the look must have been convincing because no one said a thing.

“You all can come to my house tomorrow to say goodbye to Steve. The guys will tell you where it is. Do not come together and do not bring anything with you. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, giving Steve quick nods before they were led away.

“Hop up,” Eddie said from right in front of him.

When did he get that close?

“I’m sorry?”

“It’ll be less suspicious if you look like a guard. She’ll lead you to my home and I’ll walk a bit behind. If you run for it, we’ll find you.”

“I’m not dressed like a guard.”

“Everyone is off duty sometimes. But you’ll wear my cape to cover your clothes. You look like you lost a few fights.”

“I did.”

Eddie grimaced.

“I think we all have.”

Steve didn’t push, didn’t want to test how far Eddie’s patience and kindness would go.

He hopped up onto Eddie’s horse, settling into the saddle quickly.

Eddie didn’t give him much of a chance to get acquainted with the beautiful horse he was on before he touched her neck and she was off. Eddie laughed at Steve’s shocked face.

He hadn’t ridden a horse since he lived in Hawkins.

It was freeing.

He arrived at Eddie’s cottage much faster than he thought he would, surprised to see that Eddie lived along the outskirts of town, just past the first few rows of trees in the woods. It was solitary but still had easy access to the main road.

And it was cozy.

Steve could tell Eddie liked his quiet time to himself, just from the entrance to the cottage.

A small shelf held his weapons, though probably not all of them, and a table that looked hand carved held letters and drawings.

Steve made his way further inside, trying not to be nosy, but needing to know more about Eddie before he arrived.

The cottage was small, almost entirely all one large room. No couch, only a single rocking chair in the corner and a small stack of pillows next to a bookcase filled with books. The kitchen area was just enough to get by, only a small table and two chairs to sit at.

He walked into the only bedroom of the house, where the only bed was messily made, and clothing was strewn across the floor.

If he intended to keep Steve here all night, was he expecting him to sleep on the floor?

Steve had slept worse places, he supposed.

“Have you gotten all the information you need from snooping or shall I come back later?”

Steve jumped. He hadn’t been snooping, just looking, but Eddie snuck up on his left side and he hadn’t heard a single hint that he arrived.

When he turned, Eddie did look slightly apologetic, but didn’t say so.

“I managed to snag some fresh bread for us to have with the soup I made last night. It’s not very flavorful, but it’ll do,” Eddie said as he took off his boots and threw them into the corner of the bedroom.

“I won’t eat your food. I told you I wouldn’t use any resources,” Steve reminded him.

“You look like you’re one missed meal away from collapsing. You need food. I have food. You’ll eat.”

Eddie walked out of the bedroom and Steve had no choice but to follow.

They ate in silence. Steve didn’t even feel like he should be sitting at the same table as Eddie, but he didn’t have much choice when Eddie set a bowl of soup down and gestured for him to sit.

Steve didn’t know what to make of him.

—--------------------------------

Steve cleaned up, insisted on doing that much to show his appreciation. Eddie decided not to argue, told him he was going to change and wash his face in the bucket of water he had in the bedroom.

Steve waited for him to be done.

“Are you tired?” Eddie yelled from the room.

“A bit.”

That was an understatement.

Steve hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time for five years. His body was constantly exhausted, and now that he was in an actual house, he could feel his body giving up.

Safety usually did that.

But he couldn’t really know for sure that he was safe, couldn’t know that this wasn’t a trap.

“I have something you can change into for bed. It’s not quite clean, but it’s not dirty either. Come change, I’ll get the fireplace going.”

He’d almost forgotten that the night would be much cooler, that without a fire, he would likely have caught a cold or spent the entire night shivering.

Another reason to be grateful for Eddie.

He didn’t want to be in this position though, owing someone. Especially not someone who could ruin his life or those he loved.

He seemed like a higher ranked soldier, like someone most people listened to and liked, and one order from him could end Steve’s life.

Steve was good at defending himself, but he was tired.

He changed, ignored the way Eddie was staring at him as he did so, not wanting to answer any questions about his arm or the scars littering his body.

He was willing to repay Eddie in some way, but not with answers.

“I’ll take this side,” Eddie mumbled as he started moving the blanket on the side of the bed closest to the door.

“Um.”

“The bed’s big enough, just get in.”

Steve watched as Eddie got on his side, moving around until he was comfortable.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“Steve. Get in the bed before I send you to the stable.”

Steve wouldn’t have really minded that, maybe even preferred that, but he decided to listen to Eddie.

He got in on the other side of the bed, laying on his side facing the wall, taking up as little space as he could.

“Steve, just get comfortable.”

So, he tried. And surprisingly, he found a very comfortable position on his stomach. He used to sleep that way as a child, never having to worry about if someone would sneak up on him in the woods.

He figured the only person who would try to kill him probably already would have tried by now. Maybe he could actually get some sleep.

He sighed into the pillow, drifting off before he heard Eddie turn over and face him.

—-------------------------

Steve woke up slowly, his body warm and not sore for the first time in years.

He’d forgotten what it was like.

And then he started to take inventory of his surroundings.

He was cuddled into Eddie’s side, his face buried against Eddie’s stomach and hand wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s hand was in his hair, not moving, just holding the strands.

Steve was stuck like this.

Surely, Eddie would wake up and push him away and then he would be sent away as planned.

Surely, Eddie didn’t know this happened in their sleep.

He felt Eddie’s legs shift, then his hand.

A groan.

Steve tried to pretend he was shifting away in his sleep. He closed his eyes and started to turn away.

The hand in his hair gripped harder, kept him where he was.

“You ‘wake?” Eddie whispered.

Steve had two options: pretend to be asleep or say he was awake and possibly die.

So he stayed quiet, let his breathing stay slow despite his nerves. He kept his eyes closed in hopes that Eddie wouldn’t think he’d been awake at all.

“Good.” Eddie whispered. The hand in his hair gently carded through his fingers. “Sleep as long as you want. You need it.”

Steve couldn’t cry like this, it would give him away, but the softness of Eddie’s voice, the gentle way he was holding him, it was all too much.

He bit back the tears, and adjusted himself slightly so he could hopefully fall back asleep.

—-------------------------------------------

When he woke up screaming, Eddie was holding him, rocking him back and forth to calm him down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re okay,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head.

He was shaking, and crying, and had to get away from Eddie. He couldn’t show any more weakness.

He tried pulling away, but Eddie wouldn’t let him go.

“Steve, wait. Calm down first, okay? You’re barely breathing.”

He knew that. But he needed to get out.

“Air.”

“Okay,” Eddie said.

And then Steve was in Eddie’s arms as he got up and walked over to the window.

Steve knew he wasn’t as big as he should be, often only ate what was absolutely required to stay alive. But Eddie lifted him like he was lifting a small bag of food, and put no effort into carrying him across the room.

He adjusted Steve in his arms, until Steve was wrapping his legs around his waist and one of Eddie’s arms supported him. His other arm worked open the window, and he let out a small grunt when it got stuck about halfway.

Steve was too busy crying to worry about anything else that was happening.

Eddie held him next to the window, the cool air slowly filtering through the room and into his lungs, waking him up all the way and helping him focus.

But once he could focus, he realized where he was. He realized what he was doing.

He started to drop his legs down, but Eddie didn’t let him.

“Darling, you need to relax. Take some more deep breaths.”

Darling.

Steve looked at Eddie.

Eddie Munson had called him darling before.

”Steven! Come say goodbye to Wayne!”

Steve made his way downstairs to say goodbye to his family’s personal guard. Once a year, he left for two weeks to visit with his cousins in a town nearly a day’s travel away. The second in command usually covered for him, but this year would be Wayne’s nephew, Eddie’s, first time taking his place.

He was the best of the best, and not just according to Wayne.

And he was only two years older than Steve.

Steve loved Wayne, had considered him to be more of a dad than his own dad most of the time.

He crashed into Wayne, face buried in his chest.

At 16, Steve was too old to act like this, but Wayne didn’t believe that anyone was ever too old to give or get a good hug.

“Alright now, it’s alright. It’s just two weeks, son.”

Steve hadn’t noticed that Eddie was standing to the side, serious face to represent his very serious job.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said.

“You know I’ll miss ya too. But Eddie will take care of you all just fine.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then back at Wayne.

“He won’t bring me a cup of mead after my parents go to bed, though.”

Wayne laughed and looked over at Eddie, who was refusing to look at them.

“I’ll be sure to bring you two when I get back.”

And then he was gone.

Steve’s parents left the same day for a trip to visit the farms up north.

Steve was alone in the house except for the help and guards. And Eddie.

He hated being alone.

He woke up from a nightmare that first night, shivering and crying silently.

There was a knock on his door, and he felt like he might still be in the nightmare.

But Eddie peeked around the door and Steve relaxed slightly.

“I brought you mead,” Eddie said as he came into the room holding a mug. He paused when he saw the state Steve was in. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Eddie was next to him in a heartbeat, setting the mug on the table by his bed. His hands were cupping Steve’s face, checking him for injury.

“Just a nightmare,” Steve breathed out, still trying to center himself.

“Darling, you’re barely breathing.”

Steve’s eyes looked up at Eddie’s, searching for something, anything that would tell him why he just called him darling.

“I’m okay,” Steve finally said.

Eddie’s hands were gone, but the concern on his face remained.

“Do you need anything?”

“Could you stay?”

Steve hated asking, he hated being vulnerable with anyone. But he hated being alone more.

“I’ll stay, darling.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

Eddie hadn’t been unkind before, but he certainly hadn’t made it seem like he wanted to be friendly.

“Because I know you don’t deserve to be treated poorly.”

Steve watched as Eddie contemplated what he was going to say.

“I know about the prophecy. Your parents told me when you left. They sat me and Wayne down, explained how important it was to find you, to keep you here so that our town and the world wouldn’t suffer. I didn’t believe it, but then the flood happened, and everything happened, and we’ve spent years just trying to survive. And the only thing that made sense was that you left and this started.”

“They didn’t tell you the part of the prophecy that I knew, though.”

“I figured it out though. I learned the part they didn’t tell anyone. That if you stayed in Hawkins, Hawkins would be safe, but the rest of the country would burn. But if you left, you had a chance at saving everyone.”

Steve nodded.

“Darling, you’re so good.” Eddie cupped his jaw and smiled sadly at him. “You went out into the world to save it, risked your life to help all of us. It came at a cost, but so does everything.”

Steve was crying again.

“What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it when I lost the hearing in my left ear,” Steve started, but paused when Eddie’s finger started tracing along his left ear. “We were stuck in a town that wasn’t prepared for anything. I could feel an earthquake coming, it’s just the way the ground feels under my feet. I tried to warn everyone, some people listened, but. There was a little girl. She was alone in a shop. I couldn’t leave her there. I misjudged how far off the earthquake was, misjudged how bad it would be. Managed to push her out of a window before the building collapsed. I got stuck under a counter that fell on my head, knocked me out cold, then more beams fell on my arm. By the time Robin and Max got to me, they had to cut it off or leave me there.”

“And the prosthetic?”

“Got it about a year ago. Helped a family escape from a tornado, managed to save most of their possessions even, and one of them was the prototype for this. The man had it built in a week for me. It isn’t perfect, but it does what I need it to do.”

“You can’t hear anything out of your left ear?”

“No.”

“That’s why I scared you earlier.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve had to do this, darling.”

Steve shrugged.

“No, you should have never had to do this. I don’t know what changed in your mind to make you leave, and I’m glad you were able to help, but it should’ve never fallen on you.”

“I broke up with Nancy. I just had a moment when we were together, I realized she didn’t even know I liked having mead in bed. We were together for nearly a year, planned to marry, and she didn’t even know I liked drinking mead. It sounds stupid, but it just. It reminded me that on the first night you had to protect me, you brought me mead because you overheard me tell Wayne about it.”

Eddie looked at him with something like awe on his face.

“So you left because you broke up with her?”

“Yes and no. I broke up with her because I needed to for a lot of reasons, but I left because she was the only thing keeping me here. I knew I couldn’t ignore what my future was, and ignoring it would only make it worse for everyone outside of Hawkins.”

“But it was a suicide mission.”

“I had help.”

“The children?!”

Steve smirked and patted his cheek.

“Every single one of those children can outwit and outmatch you any day of the week. I guarantee it.”

“Whatever,” Eddie blushed. “So you’ve been out there for five years, basically alone, saving the country?”

Steve nodded.

“I-” Eddie shook his head. “And the nightmares, those are memories?”

“Mostly. Some of them take it a bit too far and go from memories to worst case scenarios.”

“You have them often?”

“Pretty often. Robin usually wakes me before they get too bad.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was happening until you were already screaming and crying.”

“It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time?” Eddie smiled.

“If you’d like. I’m not in a rush to go. I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

“You seemed pretty set on leaving tomorrow.”

“I didn’t exactly feel welcome.”

Eddie kissed his forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment before he whispered.

“Do you feel welcome now?”

“I suppose with a cup of mead, I might.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #robin buckley #fantasy au #hurt/comfort #sort of enemies to lovers #anon request #ficlet

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002yb · 7 months

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My heart???? I pove the amnesiac Jason being in love AGAIN with Dick. Please give us all your thoughts and Bruce and Tim and Damian and Alfred aaaaa

The trope of Jason having an undying crush on Dick Grayson is one that I'll shoehorn into every bit of anything I ever write, hahaha. I love it so much; it's so sweet. Thank you for following along with the secretary AU though. //u/// Here's some general thoughts for them:

Bruce

There are times Bruce has to do his job. Unfortunately, part of that job includes playing nice with his employees. A lot of people want to get in good with the CEO so that they'll be better favored for promotions. Rubbing elbows is part of corporate culture.

Only Jason doesn't give a fuck. Do you have an appointment? Of course they don't; Jason sure as hell didn't make one for them. Get outta here.

Just Jason being the most ornery secretary/assistant, an actual guard dog outside of Bruce's office.

Meanwhile Bruce just looking on from the glass panes separating them and being so smitten because look at his boy - small as he ever was and just as fierce as before. Viciousness being innately Jason and Bruce appreciating it in a way he hadn't before.

And when Jason finally shoos whatever bootlicker comes along, he sits back in his chair with a huff, before glancing at Bruce and smiling that ornery little smirk and Bruce loves him so damn much.

Unrelated: when Bruce can't stay on task, Jason moves himself to temporarily sit in Bruce's office with him. Just sitting across from Bruce at his desk and supervising because they've got deadlines, boss.

The above is a strategy Bruce employs to get Jason closer to him. It works up until Jason realizes what Bruce is doing, after which Jason withholds himself until Bruce does his job and Bruce is despondent over it, of course, but also a little humored and fond and affectionate because that's his boy.

Alfred

The way this man fishes for information on his grandbaby (Damian) being so next level. He laments to Jason about how he always wanted grandchildren, but... *sidelong glance to Bruce who straightens up in his office*

The joke being that Damian is actually Bruce's kid, only Jason still hasn't brought Damian around so they can't confirm anything.

Anyway, Jason shares pictures and Alfred adores them. Especially the ones that have both Jason and Damian in them.

And Alfred is a gentleman, a professional. He doesn't get cranky, only he does hahaha. Because he wants Jason home and he wants to meet his (great) grandbaby, Master Bruce. l<

Until they can sort that though, Alfred is very doting to Jason and Damian. He can't overstep, but when opportunity presents itself, Alfred offers up recipes that he knows Jason will like and that would be appropriate for a fussy child. He offers up little caretaking tips and tricks and bites back chortles when Jason jokes about trying them on Bruce.

Alfred startling when he gets a text from Jason one day asking for help with a sick child

And Alfred is halfway to the garage before he realizes how inappropriate that would be so he parks himself right beside the door just in case Jason requests him

Which he doesn't, which breaks Alfred's heart. But Jason does call and Alfred is able to talk Jason down and help him through whatever crisis Damian has brought on.

And later, Jason passing along a thank you card that Damian also contributed some baby scribbles to. Along with a little gift, a tea cup, that Damian helped pick out. Because they're really grateful and Alfred is composed about it until he gets back to the car and then he just holds this sweet note and gift and mourns how he wants his family back ahhhhhhhhhh

But Alfred is a strong person and bears the strain of it all and carries on.

It's his new favorite cup though ;U;

Dick

Dick uses the excuse of meeting Bruce and Tim for lunch all of once before he boldly asks Jason out

Bruce's jaw drops so fast. He's damn near tripping over every bit of furniture in his office and his own two feet, scrambling to the door where he falls dramatically against the frame with a lie that he needs Jason to fetch xyz thing from xyz area of WE

Once Jason is out of earshot, Bruce glowering so hard at Dick because don't lead their boy on; get those foul thoughts out of his head

And Dick just here without one impure thought in his head (yet) and being very l: because really, Bruce? Dick would never (only he will).

Anyway, Bruce cockblocking even the most innocent of interactions and Jason being a bit ._. about it because he's never so busy as when Dick turns up to say hi.

Just Dick surprising Jason at the office with drinks and food, little pick-me-ups. And here's the thing - Dick doesn't know Jason like Alfred does. He doesn't know Jason's favorites or things he doesn't. He's figuring it all out in the moment and he keeps making efforts and there's a level of guilt there for not doing this before, sure, but there's also enjoyment because it's Jason and ahhhhhh

When Dick brings by the pick-me-ups and leans against Jason's desk or pulls up a chair to sit across from him and loaf around for a few minutes, Bruce and Tim are just l: because really? Nothing for them?

And Dick laughs because, 'no, Jason's special.'

Which just slays Jason where he stands as he misinterprets Dick's (current) interests and intentions

Something something Dick picking Jason up after work on his bike. And both Bruce and Alfred send death glares Dick's way, but Dick just smiles that cheeky Robin smile at them before helping Jason up behind him and telling him to hold tight

Alfred relents with his petulance immediately if only because his boys look so happy; this is how it should have always been

Bruce, on the other hand, is getting into the car and telling Alfred to follow them immediately, don't lose sight of them! D<

Tim

Copy room meet-cute scenario. Where Tim is about to commit property damage because all the copiers keep jamming on him and he doesn't have the fucking time; he's got a meeting in x number of hours and he needs to prep all the materials and the interns aren't there to help because Tim didn't finish the reports until x o'clock and he's stressed and just got off of patrol he doesn't have time to fight and be bested by a fucking copier and-- 'here, let me help.'

It's Robin. Jason. It's Jason. And Tim feels Jason looks as heroic as he ever did back when the mantle was his to wear.

Jason doing the copying for Tim and brushing off the gratitude. 'I'd rather not explain to the boss that all our copiers were thrashed in the midst of someone's corporate rage ¬‿¬' before it settles on a shrugged, self-aware, 'you take over a lot of boss's work, so it makes sense that I help you, no?'

The stress leaving Tim slowly but surely as Jason and he work side by side to put together Tim's meeting presentation materials for all of the board members/xxxxxx department heads/etc.

Not much chatter, but at the end after Bruce turns up and causes a scene (because Jason is missing from his desk and 'where is he!?') Jason turns to Tim with a crooked smile and insists that if Tim needs help with anything, Jason's there.

And Tim is left there being all awestruck and a little flushed

Plenty of casual interactions after that. Just casual greetings in the morning. Teasing from Jason that disguises blatant check-ins to make sure Tim is good. Which he is. Tim's embarrassed about it, but he notices Bruce taking back some of the work he pushed off onto Tim and...it's better.

So much banter though as they get comfortable. And Tim still sees Robin, but he starts to see Jason more and he likes him a lot.

Tim going to see Bruce and Jason knowing Tim is cool, but tormenting him anyway with the whole 'you got an appt, sir?' shtick

Jason sneakily switching out coffee with water and snickering when he catches Tim grimacing, head snapping to look Jason's direction while Jason gives a cheeky wave

Tim being teased as the next Brucie because of the supposed 'flirtiness' of their interactions; it's a scandal waiting to happen, he's following in Bruce's footsteps, etc. etc.

Tim is embarrassed about the rumors that start to circulate. He doesn't even flinch when Bruce looms over him with a rough demand of, 'what are your intentions with Jason?' like Tim is doing anything uncouth, come on man

Whether because Tim is genuinely interested or he wants to mess with Bruce (in retaliation for the copious amount of work Bruce has passed on to him), Tim pointedly asking Jason out. Right outside of Bruce's office.

Damian

Weeks later, Bruce still creeps outside of Jason's apartment. He hates the neighborhood. Crime rates are too high and the apartment isn't up to code, but he hasn't figured how to tell Jason to move yet. Telling his boy to come home would be inappropriate, as would buying the property beside the manor for Jason to have. He'll figure something out, but before that--

A flutter of sheer curtains and movement in Jason's apartment.

Bruce being persistently curious about the child, Damian, but not having much information outside of passing commentary from Jason (but mostly shared stories from Alfred).

The child is always well-guarded. Regardless of how Tim has tried to get close, the tutors that are with Damian are always very alert. Which is...good. But not conducive to the answers Bruce wants.

Anyway, Bruce being a creep outside of Jason's apartment. Listening in on recently placed bugs and startling because Damian talks.

Apparently Damian has aspirations to be Batman. And Jason humors him even as he laughs under his breath because why.

And to sucker-punch Bruce in the throat, Damian makes a proclamation that wounds Bruce deeply: 'To protect you.'

Jason being all endeared and sweeping Damian up off the ground to hold on his hip and smacking his head with a kiss

'Why not Robin?'

There's a pause, but Damian is quick even at such a young age and proclaims, 'Because you will be my Robin.'

And Bruce just cries on the inside a bit because ouch.

What started as a Damian section became a Dickjay with a Damian cameo section. Truth be told, idk how hold Damian should be.

Where the first member of the batfam Damian meets is actually Dick

Jason invites Dick up after Dick brings him home one evening

And Dick is so happy to be welcomed into this private part of Jason's life - smug because Dick is the first of them to be welcomed and this is an enormous step up from always being the last to know anything

Jason switching off with the tutor (LoA assassin lol) and the assassin and Dick eyeing each other up as they pass one another by because they both sense something's off about one another, just not what

Anyway, Jason locks up (extensive; perfect for the neighborhood, but also hopeful of all that Robin training having lingered in the back of Jason's head) then excuses himself to check that Damian was put to bed properly

Dick taking the opportunity to look around and being so enamored with every detail. There aren't many personal belongings, but there's enough. Used books and well-loved art supplies; second-hand furniture and a half-knitted blanket. There are drawings posted up on the fridge that Dick looks over fondly: depictions of Damian and Jason and few others that make up his family (which spoilers is gonna include Dick once Damian and Dick come to an understanding about Jason)

Anyway, Jason is so proud of Damian's artistic endeavors - a new hobby that Jason encouraged because Damian is otherwise so serious and morose for such a little guy. And Jason's smile when he talks about it, fuck. It's devastating. Dick could listen to Jason talk about this forever - he would love that.

Instead they talk about other things while they have a nightcap. They keep their voices low. Hushed so they don't disturb Damian in the next room.

By this point Dick would be well aware that Jason is still a sassy, ornery little menace firecracker, but it's still a joy to experience it. To trade quips, to banter. Keeping up with Jason's wit and playing a playful game of who has the sharper tongue.

It's them curled on either end of a stubby, narrow couch. Where Jason reaches out his sock-clad foot to shove at Dick's leg and Dick catches him and squeezes and holds on, a mindfully mindless point of contact - tentatively intimate.

And Dick isn't aware of how intimate the moment is - how captivated he is by Jason until suddenly a kid comes between them, face pinched as they click their tongue (and oh, that's a habit of Jason's, isn't it? Cute), taking Dick's hand in the tiniest of grips and forcibly removing Dick from Jason

Then Damian buries himself in Jason's chest before peeking back to glare at Dick. The declaration is clear as anything: he's mine

Jason introduces him, but Damian having none of it because Jason's attention being on another man? In their home? Unforgivable.

Jason being flummoxed because what? He's allowed to have friends, Damian.

No.

Dick smiles at that. He might understand that desire to be possessive.

Introductions made, but Damian being very grumpy

Child rearing difficulties for Jason with setting boundaries and getting Damian to bed because he wants to spend time with Dick, but Damian doesn't want to share

And Dick wants more of Jason. Of course he does, but he's not going to put Jason in a position to pick. Never. So he calls it a night so that Jason can take care of Damian. That besides, it's late. They should both turn in.

Jason grumbling and being a little petulant about it as he sees Dick out at the door, Damian nestled in his arms and resting on his hip, arms wrapped tight around Jason's neck. But really? He'd stay up all night. It's been nice.

Their parting being all sorts of electric although there's nothing more than lingering gazes and slow pull aways and second looks over shoulders only to catch one another still there and sheepish, giddy titters ahhhhhh

Jason resting his back against the closed door while Dick sort of bounces down the hall, invigorated and happy and excited for next time

Next time being: just an hour later when Jason texts to see if Dick made it home safely

They proceed to text through the night and come the following day when Jason looks exhausted? Bruce is concerned. When Dick comes in later with Jason's choice caffeine, looking just as tired? Bruce quickly switches to paranoid because what's happening and why and how does he stop it? l:

Still waffling with how Damian should be, hence his section being a little scarce/vague. It'll get there!

#dickjay #jaydick #brujay #timjay #secretary au

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chloecherrysip · 1 year

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As much as I mourn all the lines that appeared in mario movie trailers but for some reason, didn't make it to the finished product (RIP "I'm not afraid! I'd do anything for my brother!" YOU LIVE ON IN MY HEART ALWAYS AND FOREVER), I've been thinking about "I hope you told your brother how much you love him, because you're probably never gonna see him again" and the rest of that whole dialogue exchange in particular from this specific trailer and how much I wish we'd gotten that moment because I think it would have helped spotlight a vital aspect of Mario's character that the movie already does a REALLY good job with getting across in the first place: the way he communicates how he feels through action and acts of service instead of words!

(more under the cut because this got too long, haha)

Mario is usually a very quiet protagonist so this tracks with the games too, obviously, but even movie!Mario seems like someone who isn't overly verbose or who's especially eager to enter into heavy, feelings-based conversations (at least not without a struggle). Talking about his feelings might not come easy to him, and he maybe even forgets to say things outloud that to him, seem obvious. (Meanwhile, I think Luigi is always up for gushing about his favorite people (see the interrogation scene lol) and probably ends every phone call/text message exchange ever with "love you!" to Mario and his parents, to the point that he might accidentally say it to acquaintances and customers too on occasion, LOL).

So thinking about this exchange with Toad and how, even if the movie didn't acknowledge it past that point, this idea would be hanging over Mario throughout his journey hits harder because you can imagine him thinking: hey, when WAS the last time he told Luigi outright that he loved him that wasn't a distracted "yeah, me too" response to Luigi saying it first? Maybe it's been a long time. Too long. So long it's genuinely upsetting for him to realize! What if his brother doesn't actually know how much Mario loves him, because he does, he does so much, and he's been an idiot for going so long without saying the actual words and now he can't, he CAN'T and he would give anything in the world to go back and do things differently!

And of course, all this panic is totally unwarranted and even silly because I think Luigi knows like his own name how much Mario loves him. Because the audience watching this movie knows how much Mario loves his brother by that point! Mario never says the actual words - in fact, he never says anything particularly positive about Luigi, other than "you were great!" regarding the commercial in the very beginning - and yet it couldn't be any clearer!!! I think it's pretty impossible to come out of this movie (if you were paying attention in the least) not seeing that love plain as day in everything Mario does, down to the littlest things, because he is a man of action and that's how he expresses himself best!

You see it in how he shifts from mildly embarrassed to immediately Intense and Ready To Throw Down on a dime when Spike insults Luigi, you see it in how he pauses to open doors and create paths for Luigi to safely follow him through the construction site as he's parkouring, you see it when the dog becomes aggressive and Mario is just entirely focused on keeping Luigi behind him, pushing him out of harm's way, getting the dog's attention so it will attack him instead, etc. You see it in the warp pipe when his entire demeanor changes the second he realizes Luigi is in trouble, how he desperately paddles to reach him and grab his hand and comfort him about the situation. You see it in how his brother is front of mind for him at every point in his adventure and that's why he fights so hard to talk to Peach, why he agrees to the fight with DK, why he keeps trying even when things seem hopeless and no one believes he can do it. You see it written all over Mario's face during the reunion, every single little way he touches Luigi and brings him closer and checks in on him with crystal-clear relief and joy and gentleness!!! The "show, don't tell" aspect is just OFF THE CHARTS IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE because that's how Mario is. He's not so good at words and remembering to say them. When he loves someone, he wears that feeling, he lives that feeling in so much of what he chooses to do and how he interacts with the world, and while it's always good to say these things outloud now and then just to be clear everyone's on the same page (and I'm sure he does after the movie, haha), it doesn't make it any less meaningful. :)

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario bros #mario and luigi #super mario bros movie #super mario bros movie spoilers #cherrysip hc's & rambling #i know some people have talked about this a little already but i just really wanted to do so too :)#because it's just WILD to me that you leave this movie knowing in your soul how much mario loves and needs his brother #and yet if you looked at only the spoken dialogue separated from all context i don't think you'd get that at all #(or you would get it a LITTLE but the effect would be so much more muted and nowhere near as emotional or vivid as the final product)#because the non-verbal stuff is critical!!! and that's perfect for mario as a mostly silent protagonist!!! IT'S SO GOOD #(also please PLEASE don't tag this as ship i am so so tired)

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aperrywilliams · 2 years

Text

Seven Months (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Nota my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: A field operation goes wrong, and you lose the most important person in your life. That's what you thought for seven months.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: A character’s death and mourning are mentioned and discussed. Pregnancy is shown and discussed. A mention of possible abortion (not actually happening). Strong words. A character faint and needs medical attention. Angst with a happy ending.

A/N: Hey, my loves! I wrote this one based on this request I got the past weekend. Are you familiar with Doyle’s arc? Here is, but it’s not Emily faking her death; it's Spencer. I enjoyed writing this one, although it was painful in some parts. You can send me requests! I would love to work on those.

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Your life has been pretty good, in your opinion. It's not like you haven't been through dark times for a few years, but once you grew up and followed your dreams, things got a lot better. You became a reputable FBI agent working at the BAU, one of the most elite groups in the bureau. You earned excellent colleagues who are also your friends and your family. And you met Spencer Reid, your fiancee, the man who can light up your days and rock your nights.

Yeah, life has been pretty good to you.

Until today.

Until that bastard stabbed your fiancee in a raid.

A bastard who managed to escape.

You blamed yourself. You should have burst into the warehouse with Spencer. You shouldn’t have left him alone.

The hours in the hospital seemed endless for you. The team’s faces weren’t better than yours. He has to make it. Right?

He’s the love of your life. You can’t lose him.

You tried to stay collected, thinking of good scenarios and Spencer's recovery.

Your thoughts stopped when JJ walked through the hospital doors that separated the wards from the waiting room. She had tears in her eyes.

“He never made it off the table.”

That was the moment your life was turned upside down forever.

A widow. That's what you were and how you felt.

Crying for Spencer's death became a full-time activity. How could it not? Everything in your shared apartment reminded you of the life you both had together. The plans, the dreams, the memories, all were there in every corner. It took you weeks to grab Spencer's coffee mug he left on the kitchen counter the last morning you ate breakfast together.

Going to work didn't make things easy. The looks, the pity, the talk behind your back. It was like everyone walked on eggshells around you.

Spencer’s death affected the team, not only emotionally; two weeks after Spencer's funeral, Strauss split the group, sending Hotch to missions out of the country and Rossi to support another task group in the FBI. JJ was called to assist in other divisions from time to time. Morgan was the present team leader, and Prentiss, Garcia, and you were the permanent team members.

In the lonely nights at your apartment, surrounded by your memories, sometimes your mind tricked you, thinking that Spencer could walk inside with open arms and smile brightly at you. Maybe you would go insane.

At moments like those, you ended up knocking on Emily’s door. She was emotionally stronger than you, holding you as you cried for hours.

You will always be grateful to her. You knew it was unfair to Emily because as the same time you mourned Spencer as your boyfriend, she mourned Spencer as her little brother.

You started to feel sick most of the time. Emotional and physically sick. Your head throbbed constantly; your stomach couldn't stand the food you forced yourself to eat, and it was common to wake up in the morning with nausea making you run to the bathroom to empty your guts into the toilet.

Two months passed, and you couldn't feel better. Emily advised you to go to the doctor.

“They will tell me that I’m depressed and send me home. I can’t be home, Em,” you argued.

“But you need to be checked. Depressed or not, being like this doesn't help you. Please, just let them see you.”

You did what Emily requested. At your doctor's appointment, she asked the trivial questions and ordered urine and blood tests. You could feel her pity look on you when you told her what happened with your fiancee.

You hated people looking at you like that.

In the next appointment, with the results on hand, she disclosed two things: one of them you already knew; the other felt like a cold bucket on your back. You were depressed and pregnant.

What the doctor told you after that was a blur to you. You didn't listen, your brain only filled with one word: pregnant.

Still shaking, you managed to get out of the doctor’s office and dialed Emily’s number.

As in the past weeks, she comforted you and offered her support all the way. Whatever your decision could be.

You spent days and nights thinking about what to do. You didn't feel in a good place to be a mother, but it was Spencer's child, the love of your life. It was part of your plan together. You both wanted kids, but he was gone now.

Could you be strong enough to raise a child?

One night, curling in bed with Spencer's shirt in your hands, smelling the faint scent of his cologne, you noticed there weren’t more tears in you. The pain still was there, but you couldn't cry anymore. Instead, you started rubbing your lower belly with one hand. At that moment, you made a choice.

Telling the team made it more real. You will have a baby. Spencer's baby. Everyone hugged you, offering all the support you could need. You didn't know why, but JJ looked more emotional that day. You guessed that she felt like the baby would be his friend's living legacy. You always knew how strong was JJ and Spencer's friendship. It was a terrible loss for her too.

Emily became your partner in all the baby’s appointments you got, and she asked about all your therapist’s sessions.

You needed to acknowledge that therapy helped. Every day you felt a little bit better. Maybe it was because you focused on the baby: you needed to be okay for them. You needed to stand again because now a human life depended on you.

Months went by, and your bump started to be noticeable. Looking at you in the mirror every morning, you could see how the baby has grown.

You made changes in the apartment. Morgan helped to adapt your and Spencer’s old office into a nursery. You changed the furniture in your bedroom too, settling a bassinet by your bed. It was time to decide what to do with Spencer's belongings. You packed his clothes in boxes and left them in the basement storage room. Some of his books ran the same luck. But most of them, you wanted to keep it so your child could see part of his father there.

And so seven months have passed since that fateful day. Seven months in which there were days when it was difficult to get up, but you kept going. The support of your friends was essential.

The job also helped you overcome the pain and make each day count.

Your belly was growing and growing, and without knowing it, the baby you were carrying became the BAU’s top priority. Your baby was still not born but was loved by everyone.

“Come on (Y/N)! Tell us! It’s a boy or a girl?” JJ insisted. She, Emily, and you were in the conference room. You already knew the gender, but you didn't want to tell anyone, not even Emily.

“My lips are sealed,” you informed, sipping your tea. JJ huffed.

“We can profile you to find out, you know?” Emily warned. You narrowed your eyes.

“You wouldn't dare...”

“To know if I’m having a godson or a goddaughter? Of course!” Emily pointed matter-of-factly.

You shook your head, clucking.

Then Derek and Garcia entered the room. A severe expression on their faces. You three noticed immediately.

Something important happened.

“We found him,” Derek announced.

Your jaw dropped to the floor. JJ and Prentiss looked at each other, not knowing what he was talking about.

“Found who?” JJ asked.

“The son of the bitch who killed Reid. Steven Harmon.”

Your throat tightened, and your hands started to shake.

On the day of Spencer's funeral, when Derek hugged you, he promised to catch the man who killed your fiancee. And after seven months, he succeeded. You knew he was tracking him with Garcia's help, but no one mentioned or talked about that until now.

“We need to move fast, though. I called Hotch and Rossi. We are going to get him.”

Although your protests, Morgan didn't let you participate in the field operation. You begged him; you needed to catch the guy, but Derek reminded you that it could be dangerous for you and the baby, and he never would forgive himself if something happened to you.

Two days after that, the entire team, minus Garcia and you, finally caught who killed the love of your life, your baby’s father.

You thought that after his arrest you would feel relieved. This was what you needed to bring justice and peace of mind to you. But why it didn’t feel like that? Why did you feel like something was off?

Hotch called everyone to the conference room the next morning. After asking you to sit down, he folded his arms over his chest and spoke—JJ by his side.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Spencer lost a lot of blood after his fight with Harmon. But the doctors were able to stabilize him. And he was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. His identity was strictly need-to-know. And he stayed there until he was well enough to travel. He was reassigned to Paris, where he was given several identities, none of which we had access to for his security.”

You took in Hotch’s words, but they seemed extracted from a movie, not from reality.

“His is alive?” Garcia mumbled.

“But we buried him!” Prentiss shouted.

By reflex, you pressed both hands to your belly. Your pulse quickened, as did your breathing.

“As I said, I take full responsability for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me,” Hotch informed. The same calm and stern voice with which he started speaking.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Morgan growled.

Emily's eyes flicked from Hotch to you, back and forth. Had anyone cared about you before disclosing this news?

And then everyone turned to the door. He was there. Spencer stood awkwardly, looking at each team member, but especially at you. When your eyes and his locked, you felt like you couldn't breathe. You stood suddenly because your limbs were numb, and you didn't know if you were dreaming or awake. You clutched your bump to ground yourself. Spencer’s eyes widened when he noticed your belly.

He didn't know you were pregnant.

He didn't know anything.

You noticed how he looked at JJ as if he was asking why. She knew. Hotch knew. Who else lied to you all these months?

The silence in the room was suffocating. No one dared to say anything.

Spencer took a step ahead toward you, but you stepped back. He lied to you. Everyone lied to you.

“Don’t! Don’t come closer!” you whined.

“(Y/N)...” Spencer tried to talk to you, but you continued moving backward.

“I don’t want to know. You - you...”

The air left your lungs, and you felt dizzy. The room started to spin, and in a matter of seconds, you fainted. Emily and Derek were fast enough and caught you before falling to the floor. Derek took you in his arms to move you to the nearest couch so you could lay down as Emily called the paramedics to get you checked.

Spencer tried to reach you, but Hotch stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s move to my office,” Hotch instructed.

Spencer glared at his boss with a look that revealed how betrayed he felt. JJ intervened too.

“Spence. We need to talk.”

Reluctantly and with his gaze still on you, Spencer left the conference room, heading to Hotch’s office. Rossi and Garcia followed suit.

“Why on earth you didn't tell me she is pregnant?!” Spencer shouted to JJ once they were in the office.

“Because you would have done exactly what you shouldn't,” Hotch explained. “Wouldn't you have taken the next flight to DC?”

“Yeah! Maybe I would have. She needed me here!” Spencer spat to Hotch. “I thought you were my friend?” Spencer now directed his anger to JJ.

“You have no idea the times I was about to tell you! But Hotch is right. You would have blown your cover, and we could never have caught Harmon,” JJ defended herself.

Spencer rubbed his eyes with his palms. In all the months he was away he wondered how you were. It hurt him not being able to talk to you, to say anything. To you, the most important person in his life.

His look darted to Rossi and Penelope.

“I’m so sorry. You didn't deserve this. Any of this. I - I’m sorry,” Spencer sniffled. Rossi approached and patted his back.

“It was for your safety, kid. It's hard now, but everyone would understand, she would understand,” Rossi reassured him. “It’s good to have you back.”

“My turn,” Penelope demanded, wrapping Spencer in a tight embrace. “I can’t believe I can hug you again. Now I’ll hug you every day, and I don’t want complaints,” she declared.

Spencer chuckled, still sniffling a bit.

“I missed you guys, and I really want to tell you all about this, but I need to know about (Y/N); when did she tell you about the baby? How has her health been?”

Rossi, Hotch, JJ, and Penelope looked at him in a way that told Spencer everything he needed to know: you have been through hell in the past seven months.

How would he fix this now?

The paramedics checked on you, and said there was no need to go to the hospital. Your vitals were okay, and the baby was okay too. They only recommended you needed to rest.

Easier said than done, you thought.

Emily and Derek were in silence by your side. They didn't want to rush you or pressure you in any form. When the paramedics left, you looked at them with the question on the tip of your tongue.

“That - that was real? He - he is really alive?” You asked, voice cracking.

“Yes. He is,” Emily confirmed.

You closed your eyes for a moment to inhale and exhale.

“Did you know?” You asked again, looking at Emily and Derek.

Both shook their heads.

“What is supposed to happen now?” You asked, more to yourself than your friends.

“I don’t know,” Emily told you honestly. “I mean, I can understand the whole thing, but it's not easy to accept as if nothing happened.”

Derek was still in silence.

“Morgan, please say something,” you demanded.

“I’m sorry pretty girl, I wish I could have something to say to you, but I don't.”

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your belly.

It was evident that everyone was shocked, but Spencer was alive. That would be a reason to be happy. Right? So why you couldn't stand and run to hug him? Maybe because you already accepted that you lost him.

You didn't dare to leave the conference room during the entire day. Emily brought you snaks, and lunch, making you company for most of the hours. You told Morgan that it was okay for him to leave you there, that you were okay. The same you told Emily, who seemed more reluctant. You convinced her by telling her that you needed to be alone to think.

Eventually, Morgan and Emily went to talk to Hotch, JJ, and presumably Spencer. But you weren't ready yet.

More hours passed, and you didn't know what to do. You knew that you will have to talk to him at some point. You couldn’t avoid him all day.

Peeking through the blinds, you saw Spencer sitting alone at his desk.

It was real. He was real.

The man you mourned for months was alive and a few feet from you. Rubbing your bump, you asked yourself if life was giving you a second chance, or maybe it was a test to prove how stronger you were.

Either way, you needed to confront this.

You opened the conference room’s door, and Spencer's head snapped instantly in your direction. You didn't say anything, retracting to the office but leaving the door open. You assumed it was enough for him to understand.

Spencer quickly strolled where you were. Cautiously he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled, standing in front of you.

It was only then that you really noticed him. His hair was longer and his curls wilder than ever. He grew a little stubble and his dark circles seemed more prominent. His clothes looked different too: gray slacks, a black shirt, and a gray tie.

“Did you want to talk to me?” You asked him, your voice monotonous as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Yes,” he replied to you almost in a whisper. “I didn't come earlier; Emily warned me that I needed to wait until you wanted to see me,” he explained.

“She only told you that?” You asked.

“No. After punching me in the arm and cursing me for hurting you, she told me that,” Spencer corrected.

“That sounds more like Emily,” you mused.

“Yeah.” Spencer acknowledged, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Looking at you didn't make it easy.

He was in front of you, and the only idea that plagued his mind was how bad he wanted to hug you and kiss you. But he couldn't.

To you, he was like a ghost.

“I - I’m so sorry, (Y/N). But I had no choice. I had to do it. And there wasn’t a moment being away that I didn’t think about you. When I regained consciousness, I was flying to Bethesda. The only information I had was a note with my destination and the prohibition of talking to anyone because it could mean Harmon hurting some of you. I couldn't let that happen.”

Spencer's eyes got glassy, and his voice trembled.

“So the only solution was faking your death? I thought you were a genius, Spencer,” you huffed, disappointment written on your face.

“I’m sorry. If I could go back in time, I would do it to prevent all of this. Believe me. It wasn’t easy for me either. To lose everything I had, not knowing if someday I could get it back? Trying to figure out how to solve this being miles and miles away. Away from you. It killed me day by day,” Spencer sighed, hands fidgeting with a notepad in his hands.

“Yeah? Big difference was that you knew we were here, alive. While we had to assume you were dead. We buried you! Do you know how hard it was? And do you want to know what it meant for me? Oh, God! To come back every day to an apartment full of your memories. Every night trying to sleep in a bed we used to share. It took me months to pack your things! Fuck you, Spencer!”

The rage and the pain mixed perfectly in your voice. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Spencer knew better. There wasn’t any word he could say to make that go away. So he was ready to take every stab coming from your mouth.

“I deserve all your anger. I deserve your cold shoulder, but please. Believe me when I tell you that this wasn’t how it should have happened.”

“No? Of course, because it was easier to trust JJ than me, uh? I was your fucking fiancee, Spencer!”

After you said that, Spencer noticed. You weren't using your engagement ring. Of course you weren’t. He was dead. You had the right to go on with your life.

“It wasn’t like that. I was trying to protect you,” he defended.

“Oh, please! Not that bullshit. What you did, what you all did, was the lowest thing I expected from you. Don’t ask me to be okay with it.”

“If I have known that you were...” Spencer trailed off, darting his eyes to your bump. Protectively you put your hands over.

“Pregnant? Would you have come back? I don't think so. Don’t lie to me, Spencer.”

You didn't believe him, and that broke Spencer.

“(Y/N)...” he wanted to argue, but you cut him off.

“I wasn't even sure if I wanted to keep it, you know? I was so depressed, in a hole that I didn't know how to get out of. But yeah, this baby symbolizes the love we shared at some point. It was something we both wanted. This baby gave me a reason to live when I thought I had lost everything!” you bawled, feeling your voice trembling.

Spencer couldn't help but sob, seeing you like that and hearing what you said. He had already lost too much of your life and pregnancy during those months, and the guilt was eating him alive.

Not having anything more to say, you grabbed your bag to leave. Spencer watched with horror how words failed him in an attempt to stop you. Before crossing the threshold, you turned one last time.

“(Y/N)... wait. Please,” he begged. You halted at the threshold, doubting if it was a good idea to turn around. But you did it anyway.

“Do you have anything else to say now?”

“No. But please, could you take this?” Spencer stretched his arm and offered you the notepad he had previously.

“What is this?” You asked cautiously.

“You know I’m not good at expressing my feelings, but I wrote them. I tried. Please, could you read it?” He pleaded. You noticed his hand shaking. You nodded, grabbing the notepad.

“I don’t know what you expect I find here,” you frowned, setting the item in your bag.

“My life in the past seven months. I know it couldn't be compared to what you went through, but I think you deserve to know,” Spencer hastened to say, his glassy eyes telling you it was important to him.

You didn't respond, but nodded instead.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Fixing your bag on your shoulder, you turned again and left the room.

Spencer stood there and contemplated through the window how you walked to the elevator and disappeared behind the metal doors.

The notepad begged you to be opened. You shoved it over the coffee table earlier, debating if it was a good idea. You were curious but afraid of what was written there.

After dinner, you sat on the couch with a mug of tea. Your eyes darted to the notepad again while your free hand flew to your belly.

“I know what you are thinking; your mom is a mess right now. And you’re right. Adults could be so complicated, my little peanut. Mom and dad are not exceptions. Yes, your dad. It happens that he is very much alive. Can you believe it? We should be happy. Right?”

You sighed. Leaving your mug on the coffee table, you grabbed the notepad and opened it. You couldn’t help but smile at the scratchy-messy Spencer's handwriting.

The first page seemed like a letter.

-&-

My love,

I’m writing this even if I can't actually send it to you. Right now, I’m sitting at a desk in my hotel room in Paris. My flight arrived three hours ago, and I’m settled here until I can have my documents. Then I can rent an apartment here. I wish I shouldn’t have to. I wish I could take the next flight to DC. I wish I could come back to be with you and tell you that everything is okay.

I’m sorry. You and the team are thinking I died on the table by now. I’m so sorry. I should have been faster than Harmon. I should have stopped him somehow. I failed. And now we are miles away.

My body hurts from the wounds but what hurts me more is knowing that I’m dead for you. And I’m here with my life suspended for an undetermined time.

Would you forgive me someday?

I love you, and I’ll love you forever.

No matter if someday you forget who I was.

-&-

Tears started to roll down. This was the first entrance in the notepad. The following pages were filled with more letters to you: 210 in total. He wrote a letter to you every day. Some were longer, others not. The first ones were filled with hope, the last ones with sadness and melancholy. But each letter showed how much he loved you, how much he missed you.

He wrote the last one on the plane to DC two days ago.

-&-

My love,

My heart is beating so fast right now. Hotch told me they caught Harmon and that I could come back. God, never did I pack a suitcase so quickly in my life. I’m so excited about coming back, but I’m terrified. They didn't tell me much about anything in the past months, even when I begged to know about you. Are you okay? Did you forget me yet?

I know this won’t be easy. And I wouldn't blame you if you hate me after this. But I have hopes. The hopes I was losing in the past months.

Just five hours and fifteen minutes more.

I love you. I love you. My body is shuddering, and I’m sure the old lady beside me must think I’m crazy because I’m mouthing the words as I write them.

Just a few hours more, my love.

-&-

The man in the letters was the man you loved. And the man you still love. You couldn’t deny that. Was it a messy situation? Yes. Were you still confused? Sure you do.

But this is your Spencer. And he is alive. And he loves you.

What he did could be reasonable or not for you, but it was done. Why prolong the agony? You both deserve happiness. Rebuild what you both lost in the past seven months.

That’s how you stood from the couch, grabbing your coat and keys. It didn't matter the time. Nothing else mattered.

You didn't remember much of the text you sent Emily asking where Spencer was staying. You didn’t remember much of the cab ride or how you were in front of Morgan’s door.

After knocking insistently, a confused Derek opened the door. You were a sight to see: slippers, pajama pants, an oversized sweater covering your pregnant belly, and a coat.

“I guess you are not here to see me,” he teased you. You rolled your eyes.

“Not now, Derek, please,” you begged.

“Come in. He is sleeping on the couch. Or he was.”

Stepping into Derek’s apartment, you immediately saw a pair of hazel eyes looking at you with confusion.

“(Y/N)...” he muttered. Then panic appeared in him. “Are you okay? The baby is okay?” He hastened to ask, standing from the couch and moving closer to you. Derek didn't bother to say anything; he left you both alone.

“Everything is okay. Or I hope it will,” you told Spencer, daring to step closer to him. You could feel how Spencer's breath hitched. His puppy eyes looking at you, trying to decipher why you were there at 2 AM. Then it hit him.

“Did you...” Spencer gestured in the air. He didn’t need to finish the question because you knew he was talking about the notepad.

“Yes. I read it,” you admitted, pursing your lips to conceal the quivering on them.

Spencer cleared his throat.

“Oh. Okay?”

He was frozen on the spot.

It was the time for a leap of faith and love. For you, for him, and the life growing inside you.

You closed the gap between the two of you, your hand reaching his cheek and stroking it tentatively. He leaned into your touch.

It was real.

He was real to you.

You were real to him.

You could see the tears pouring from Spencer's eyes. You didn't do it better, sobbing as your other hand explored his face, touching his eyes, jaw, forehead, and nose.

“I love you,” he whispered, using his hands to mimic your actions. He left a trail of feather touches on your cheeks, eyes, chin, and lips. Then his eyes lowered to your belly. He returned his eyes to yours, silently asking permission. You nodded.

He kneeled, and with both hands, he caressed your belly over your sweater. With the tears came the whimpers. You were both fully crying now. Spencer couldn't believe that he was touching where his baby lay since seven months ago.

“Hey there,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy, you know? Yeah, the asshole who made mommy upset all these months. Sure she mentioned to you that,” Spencer spoke, guilt in his voice.

“You both need to talk about that later,” you conceded, gently stroking Spencer's hair.

“I have to tell you something now, though. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here and won’t leave you or your mom ever again,” Spencer mumbled to the baby, planting a kiss on your belly.

“You promise? Because I can’t lose you again. Mourning you twice would destroy me,” you confessed, looking down to find his eyes.

Spencer stood and took your hands in his to kiss your knuckles not breaking eye contact.

“I’ll stay forever if you will have me. I promise,” he assured you, now cupping your cheeks with both hands. You got lost in those hazel eyes. The same eyes that made you fall in love years ago.

He leaned and kissed you. You felt butterflies in your stomach, like always when he kissed you. You didn't think twice and kissed him back, pouring all your feelings and longing into that kiss.

When you parted, he rested his forehead on yours.

“I love you. I love you both,” he mumbled.

“And we love you, Spencer.”

Those words flooded so naturally from your mouths.

But they had a new meaning now.

For Spencer, those words confirmed that his life wasn’t suspended anymore. He recovered your love and gained a new one.

For you, those words brought to existence what you thought you lost seven months ago: the love of your life and the father of your child.

------------------

Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfictions #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #seven months #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months

Note

could we get some more Steven? (pokepasta) just after the incident, after what happened with Mike? he's just a mess (in a more crazy way then sad) but his mood is constantly swinging from "he deserved it" to "im a monster" and (fem)reader helps him relax and gives some kisses and affection to calm him down? <3

(she's a gentle person compared to him being violent<33)

"It was only fair, right? He deserved it...he was jealous. He took my dreams..my happiness...my Miki."

"B...Blast..?"

"Your master was a horrible man, Blastoise. But you're free now."

"Blas..toise..."

"...you should be grateful."

With tense muscles and fear rushing through his veins like a current, Blastoise refused to look at the man scowling at him with glowing eyes. He couldn't even tear his own away from the body of his trainer.

Mike.

His owner, the one who had raised him since he was a little Squirtle....was dead.

All he did was come out of his pokeball as soon as he heard Steven's screams, only to be met by the sight of the ex-champion's older brother lying motionless on the bed. He didn't know what to make of the haunted expression still etched all over his face, nor the way his eyes remained opened and filled with tears...or the large bruises around his neck.

And the blood..

There was a lot of it coming from his mouth.

Over the past year, Blastoise knew Steven and Mike had a falling out ever since the accident with Miki. While he didn't fully understand all the details of that dreadful day, he was sad to learn he'd never get to see the Charizard ever again, with a visit to her grave being enough proof of that.

He knew how genuinely sorry his master was, regretting the trade every single day. Yet it wasn't enough for Steven.

He wanted revenge, and it turned him into something horrible.

Now Mike was dead, and he was standing there in the darkness, parts of his body glitching as he told Blastoise such awful things...as though he was in the wrong for mourning.

But...he didn't actually mean that, right?

Why would he say such things?

Why would he do this to his own brother?

Yet when the large turtle finally managed to look away and glare at Steven, he was surprised by what he saw: the trainer no longer looked menacing, but instead seemed rather...lost and remorseful.

"Blastoise..I....I'm sorry...I..." Looking down at his hands, he was mortified by the blood staining his fingertips. They began to shake the longer he stared, tears filling up his eyes. "What have I done..?"

"Blast?" Blastoise approached cautiously.

Then they both heard the front door open, and Steven panicked.

"Don't tell her..please." He rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him so he could wash his hands, desperate to get rid of the bloodstains.

Yet even as they disappeared physically, in his mind....they weren't washing off.

In his mind, his hands were completely tainted in red, and every passing second made him feel sick to his stomach.

He knew you were going to find out, and he silently cursed himself as he heard Blastoise calling out for you. Of course, he wasn't his trainer...so it's obvious he wasn't going to listen to him.

Turning off the sink, he just listened to your footsteps coming up the stairs, before they stopped upon entering his room. He could only imagine what your expression was upon seeing Mike's body, but he resisted the urge to sob and alert you to his presence.

Even so, however, Blastoise pointed you to the bathroom door, and you've been trying to convince him to come out....yet he refused.

No way should he be anywhere near you now.

He wasn't even expecting you to be home this early.

While you were working at a Pokémon Center overnight, you heard whispers from visitors about a long-haired trainer walking around with an eerie smile, apparently possessed by Missingno: a strange Pokémon that nobody was meant to find.

You didn't wanna believe it was your boyfriend, of all people, but he and Mike did learn about it while they were trying to finish their pokedexes.

Despite all the sources not being 100% verified by experts--Professor Oak included--Steven's obsession with this "myth" grew tenfold since Miki's passing. He wanted to find it and control it, and not because of a pokedex or fame or anything else.

He wanted it to change the very course of nature itself.

To bring her back.

There's been a circulating rumor that Missingno could corrupt the very soul of its trainer, driving them to do horrific and unspeakable things under its influence while amplifying their deepest and darkest internal thoughts...

And Steven, whether he found it or vice versa, unfortunately proved that to be true. It must have been feasting on his grief over Miki, leading to him making such irrational decisions he can't undo.

You believed that had to be it.

He was being controlled by this monster.

There's no way he'd do any of this otherwise....right?

It took a while for him to come out and face you, so you ended up waiting downstairs--although not before covering Mike's body with the sheet so it wasn't the first thing he saw. You had Blastoise go into his pokeball, keeping it safely tucked away in your bag.

You kept waiting on the couch for a few minutes, before hearing footsteps and turning your attention to the stairwell.

For a moment, your heart jumped into your throat upon seeing what looked like the shadow of a Charizard cast on the wall....but it was quick to disappear.

"[Y/n]? Wh-Why..are you still here?"

You blinked, only seeing Steven on the stairs now, clutching the railing and looking completely terrified. Dry tears stained his cheeks, and his eyes and nose were all red and raw from crying.

Not to mention his hair looked even worse than it did this morning...but then again, it's been that way for a year.

You helped him take care of it during his depression spells, although under no circumstance did he ever want it cut. He sometimes got angry if you tried to push him to visit the salon, so you left it be.

You'd never force him to go. Not when he's been through enough already.

It seems Missingno took a liking to his hair, as now it looked as though Zapdos struck him with lightning. It made him appear twice as big...which would have been frightening to anybody who didn't know him.

Not to you, though.

You knew him better than anyone.

"Steven.." You gently began, only to frown as he continued hiding in the shadows.

"No...I can't.." He whispered shakily. "I..I-I'm not...well, [y/n]. You should leave before I-"

"I'm not going anywhere, okay? We can talk about this.."

"......."

"Steven?"

"..what's there to talk about? You already know what I did."

Hearing his voice become distorted, you jumped as he suddenly appeared right in front of you, staring down at you with red eyes and a pearly-white grin. The rest of his face was overtaken by total darkness.

"I had no choice. I had to do it...for her. Mike ruined my life. He was a prick who deserved everything he had coming. I call it karma, wouldn't you?" He laughed.

"I know you don't mean that..that's not what the Steven I know would say." You shook your head, gently and cautiously taking his hands into yours. And he gazed at them, confused by your actions.

You weren't afraid to touch him?

Even though they were the same hands that killed someone?

"You and I both know that thing won't bring her back."

"Maybe not..but at least I tried to do something about it." He snarled, a certain bitterness to his tone. "You just kept telling me "things will get better" for a whole damn year. Well...did they, [y/n]?"

When you didn't answer, he kneeled down so you could get a better view of his face, hoping you'd finally see the monster he had become.

"Do I look "better" to you?"

"...no, and I'm sorry if I didn't do enough to help you." You tried your best to stay calm, lightly rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. "Maybe I could've stopped you from chasing down Missingno. I'm shocked it chose to go with you, but....it's not gonna scare me away, alright? You're not gonna scare me away."

"......."

"I'm horrified at what happened, but I still love you, Steven. And I can't see myself abandoning you when you're like this. I wanna keep helping you...if you'll let me, of course."

For a few long moments, he was silent as he observed your small affectionate gesture. You didn't know what he was thinking in this moment, since the bill of his hat was hiding his entire face.

Just as you stopped, however, you heard a small sniffle. His hands began trembling in your grasp.

"...please help me."

"Steven..." Pausing, you saw him look back up at you, his expression returning to normal. With panicked breaths, he crumbled into your lap, clutching your shirt desperately as his hat slipped off and fell to the ground.

You just held him closely, soothingly pet his hair in an effort to calm him down while his body wracked with light sobs...as though he were a Cubone crying out for its mother. He kept repeating "please" and how sorry he was.

This, alone, proves that he didn't mean to kill Mike at all. He wasn't himself.

At first, you weren't sure if the boy you knew and loved was still there...but he was, and he needed you by his side.

You were going to stay, for better or worse.

#clanask #anonymous #pokepasta x reader #strangled red #strangled red x reader #strangled red steven x reader #steven x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #female reader

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mikkokomori · 1 year

Text

Memory Entry - 1/3

Aubrey's Mistake

=======================

How long has it been?

How long has she been mourning the death of Mari?

She didn't know.

It felt like years, yet barely any time has passed since her funeral. The lone piece of paper hanging there read DECEMBER– only two and a half months.

Aubrey lamented.

Two and a half months.

Two and a half months had passed, and no one had come to comfort her. Her mother mourned– though not on the death of Aubrey's older sister figure.

Aubrey would watch as her mother sat alone at the dinner table, the beer bottles beginning to accumulate on the side. Only a mop of hair lay on the table, the probability of her passed out from drinking too much was very likely.

Aubrey looked at the plushie in her hands; its purple pigment seemed to have been sucked out as she sat in the dull living room. Mr. Plantegg brought her no comfort as it had before. No warmth came from it.

Lifeless.

Dull.

Aubrey stared at it for a very long time.

No one came to comfort her. Was she the one who had to seek it out then?

Her small hands gripped at the sides of Mr. Plantegg, trembling before setting it down on the couch.

No.

No, she can't hurt him. He's her favorite plushie.

Aubrey sighed.

She'll go see Basil. He's always been there, way before she met the others.

He'll understand, she thought.

He won't mind.

____

The walk to his house felt suffocating.

It'll be okay soon.

He'll make everything better.

He'll hold my hand through this, just like always.

Thoughts floated in her head as she finally walked down the path to his door. It stood lifeless, yet there was a warmth emanating from it, a warmth she yearned as the vibrancy of the house's colors glowed under the afternoon sun.

Basil has always been there for me.

Aubrey stood in front of the door for several minutes. She breathed in.

Basil always makes things better. He's kind. He's always cared about me. He's always comforted me.

The door creaked open. Aubrey took a step back.

It was Basil.

"Basil!" Aubrey immediately exclaimed in an awfully cheerful tone. "I was just coming to see you!"

Basil seemed to jump as he looked at her with surprise. A somber expression lay on his face once he realized it was Aubrey, a small smile on his face.

"Oh… Hi Aubrey! Did you need something?"

Need something… is he busy?

"Well, I was wondering if maybe we could hang out today?" A hint of hopefulness in her voice. "U-unless… if you're busy right now..?"

Basil blinked for a few seconds before hesitantly nodding.

"N-no no, it's fine. I was…" going to go over to Sunny's house. "...going to go out…for a walk…"

Aubrey nodded solemnly.

She knew already. Ever since Mari's death, Basil has been going to Sunny's place every day. She always saw him leaving the boys house– it wasn't a secret to her.

"Is it okay if I come in?"

"....sure."

He opened the door wider for her, taking a few steps back to allow for some space between them as she entered.

Aubrey's eyes looked around his house, the familiar comfort of it all relaxing her tense shoulders. Despite having been here countless times, she couldn't help but feel the burst of pleasantness everytime she entered. A home away from home.

"What…do you want to do?"

Aubrey turned to look at her friend who had spoken, watching as he slipped off the shoes he had just put on and setting them back on its rack.

"Hmm, well, is it ok if we could just talk? Y'know, like we do all the time!" Aubrey clumsily slid off her own shoes, handing them to the ever polite blond as he set them on the rack as well. "...maybe we could also look at your photo album in the meantime?"

Basil paused for a moment.

"Ah… um… I don't– I don't have the photo album with me right now. I left it…somewhere else…"

She raised an eyebrow. Why didn't he want to bring up that he visits Sunny's house?

"Oh… ok! That's- that's fine!"

"Mhm…" Basil turned to head to the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink? A glass of lemonade? Or just some water?"

Aubrey hummed. "Some lemonade would be nice. Can I have it with those cute straws you always get? Hehe…"

Basil fondly chuckled before nodding, opening a cupboard where the colorful straws sat there in a pretty flower cup. He observed through them for a second before taking out a nice pastel pink one.

"You can take a seat wherever, unless you want to go to my room?"

"Hmhmm… let's go to your room!"

"Ok then, I'll be with you in a second!"

With a nod and a bounce to her step, Aubrey headed down the small corridor to where his room was at. The green door stood there along with another, only a hanging plant separating the two.

Aubrey ripped her eyes away from looking at it.

Touching the cool doorknob, she twisted the handle and opened the door, revealing her friend's bedroom; neat and tidy, with some plants here and there and a bookshelf near his bed. A room that Aubrey couldn't help but envy a little, seeing as it was much cuter than hers.

Feeling bad about sitting on the nicely made bed, she decided to seat herself on the carpet. It wasn't dirty. It was clean, as if it had been washed recently.

She patiently waited for Basil.

He came in a minute later with a platter of sandwiches.

"I thought you'd like something to snack on while we talked… i-if that's okay with you…"

The boy's shy attempt at making her comfortable made Aubrey jump.

"O-oh! Yes, it's okay!"

They both quietly talked to each other, Aubrey drinking out of her glass of lemonade happily as Basil nibbled off a bit of the sandwich slice he had been eating.

A question gnawed at Aubrey's mind.

"Hey… um–" Aubrey began. "So… lately I've been seeing you at Sunny's house…"

Basil visibly tensed at that.

"A-and it's not like– like it's a bad thing! Really!" She said in a panic, a poor attempt at calming him. "Well– I just– I wanted to know why, exactly, you visit him so often now…"

Basil stared at her, his soft blue eyes seeming to dull at the question.

"... No reason…"

Aubrey's hand twitched.

Basil continued to awkwardly nibble at the sandwich's edge.

"Basil…"

"It's nothing, Aubrey."

"..........."

She huffed.

"I just– I don't understand why–"

"Aubrey, please don't-"

"Don't what? Basil, you never talk to me anymore!"

Basil looked at her, his eyes widened in shock at her sudden yelling.

"Sorry, it's just–" Aubrey set down the now empty glass cup harshly on the carpet. "I– it's just– listen! Ever since Mari's funeral, you never talk to anyone!"

A growing frustration ignited in her.

"Every time I see you, you– you're always at Sunny's place! And when you're not, you just– magically become too busy to talk to me! What is so important that you won't spend time with me anymore?"

Basil remained quiet.

Aubrey continued.

"It's Sunny, isn't it? It's always been Sunny for you– ever since you met him, it's always him..! Basil, I've always been there for you way before you even met him– so what is it about him that you would rather comfort him instead of me?! Why do you always visit him instead of me? Why do you–"

"AUBREY!"

The mentioned girl gasped as she saw Basil's unrestrained anger burst through his usual kind demeanor.

The phone on his nightstand began to ring. The boy took in a deep breath as he stood up, walking over to answer it.

"Hello? Ms. Kaneko?"

Aubrey quietly waited.

"Yes? Oh! Oh… y-yes of course… I'll head over… huh?"

She looked up, staring at Basil's turned back.

"...no– no, I…I'm not busy right now."

Shock.

He wasn't busy right now?

But then what of her?

Despite everything, he'd still choose the other boy over her?

"... Y-yes ma'am– I mean-! Ahaha… sorry… I'll… be there in a few minutes. B-bye..!"

Click.

He stood still for what seemed several seconds.

And then he turned his head.

"Do you want to know why I visit him so much?"

Aubrey tensed as the once gentle and caring eyes suddenly turned icy and cold, a hidden anger behind them.

"Everytime I leave, his mother has been calling me to ask when I'll be back– because Sunny is always having panic attacks and vomiting his food out when I'm not there! You may not understand, but I do! Sunny can't handle everything going on, can't handle being alone– you of all people should know that!"

She meekly lowered her head.

"Aubrey, you realize that Mari was Sunny's sister, right? If– if anything, you should know that the one who's suffering the most is him! Of course, you don't seem to understand that! You only care about your own comfort, all while ignoring that everyone else, that we, are also mourning over her! You're not the only one who misses her, Aubrey!"

The boy walked past her, opening the door to his bedroom.

"If you're going to attack Sunny over the fact that I'm trying my best to look after him, then I'm sorry, but you can leave now. I'm not going to let you hurt someone I care about when you won't even acknowledge that he's hurting too."

"B-Basil–" Aubrey called out in panic. "I-I just– I didn't– I–!!"

"....Please leave. Ms. Kaneko just called me to tell me Sunny woke up, and I can't keep both of them waiting."

Aubrey's mouth moved, trying to form a sentence–

And yet nothing came out.

She left Basil's house in defeat, with their relationship barely held by a thin string.

#ANXIETY AU - Memory Entries #ANXIETY AU #omori aubrey #omori basil #omori spoilers #omori #mikos art #mikkos writing #miko panta

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

Note

Pls we need a happy ending to the Joe angst, we NEEEEEEEEED it😭😭😭😭 It was so good but I can't deal with it ending like that!

Relax angel, I got you 👀

Okay, who's ready for a happy ending? Here's part 2 of Joe Begs You To Stay.

Read Part 1 Here. ◀◀◀

Joe had blown up your phone all night, pretty much from the moment you'd left his flat actually. It's safe to say neither of you got a wink of sleep. You tossed and turned in bed, feeling quite sick to your stomach, your mind wandering on what tomorrow would bring and if he'd actually give up or do something about or just whether he actually didn't feel the same as he used too in general. You had ignored his messages and his calls, every single one of them, he needed to realise just what he'd done, giving him a taste of his own medicine and if he wanted to fix it; he'd make sure he did.

You think you eventually fell to sleep, the morning light seeping through the crack of your curtain where it was left open slightly, the racing pace of your heart returning as you realised it was tomorrow all too soon. You checked your phone, no further contact from Joe so you gather he got the message, you decided to go and shower trying to delay the thoughts a little longer but keeping to yourself only seemed to make it worse.

Just as you got out and went into your bedroom to get dressed feeling at least a little cleaner from your shower, your phone began to buzz, as if by magic, Joe had read your thoughts and he was calling. You'd gave him a night to stew it over and decided to answer.

"Hello?" You muttered, the pissed off tone clearly making itself known in your voice as soon as you were to hear his.

"Hi, how are you?"

"That a trick question?" You sat on the edge of the bed, holding your towel up and taking a deep breath in to stop the tears that were fighting to fall.

"Me too, I've not slept. Can I please come over?" You shut your eyes, straight to the point, yet another sigh fell from your lips.

"Yes."

"An hour sound ok?" His voice was so monotone, so downbeat, it was like he was almost mourning the loss of someone.

"That's fine, see you soon." You hung up before he could say anything more, you needed to get yourself fighting fit within the next hour so you were ready for whatever was going to be the outcome.

When Joe arrived, knocking on the front door it was all too soon. Your confidence shattered as you took your time to answer it. When you did, a tired man stood before you, not the usual chirpy, happy soul you were used to seeing.

"Come in." You gestured for him to come through, the usual spark in his eyes had almost disappeared, that on it's own was depressing enough. Joe sat straight onto your sofa, perching himself up, his hands flat on his thighs like a told off child, his head hung low again just like a mirror of last night when he was on his knees, his eyes stared down to the ground not wanting to look at you just yet, clearly nervous from the events of yesterday. You moved around the coffee table to sit next to him, leaning against the arm of the sofa and crossing your legs, picking at the side of your thumbs to help ease your anxiety if even a little.

"So..." You decided to break the silence, if you didn't do it this second, not a word would of been spoken for goodness knows how long.

Joe swerved round quickly to meet your eyes burning into the side of his head. "I've thought about everything, I know I'm completely in the wrong in most respects. I know that in the 3 years we've been together that I've never ghosted you the way I have these last couple of weeks. I have my reasons, I told you half of them last night. It got a lot and I couldn't finish because I thought that was it, I thought you were leaving me. I'm so sorry that I worried you sick and made you feel like you had to push me away, I never intended on that Y/N, I just kept getting busy and then unfortunately my last thought was you but then that changed just before I came home and at the end of the day which to then I would panic and the time difference got in the way. I know that may hurt but-"

Your eyes shot wide at the last sentence, the only words you'd seem to catch in that whole breath was that his last thought was you.

"How charming of you to say that."

"Let me finish, please." You folded your arms, huffing an irritated sigh, you weren't about to go in all guns blazing unless you oh so had too, giving him a slow nod to continue.

"I didn't mean for it to go that way, that's the longest we've ever been away from each other since I managed to get you out whilst I was filming in America last time. But it didn't mean my feelings had changed for you, they never will. I still love you more than anything in the entire world, you're my girl, my fucking world and the distance and not being able to speak sometimes won't make my feelings for you any less, you have to know that."

"So what about getting back, the girl I saw you with?"

"That part was true, she was an old friend from college, we caught up. I'd done something for you that day I'd gotten home and I figured with her being a girl and all, she helped me to figure out how I should do it."

"Do what?" You scrunched your face up in confusion, your features ran softer than before and the spark regained in his iris'.

"Can I give you this back?" He pulled your promise ring out of his jacket pocket.

"Doesn't mean I totally forgive you."

"But this isn't the end right?" You looked down, savouring your reply for a second; keeping him on his toes. He was desperate for confirmation and you had to give it to him.

"It couldn't ever be. But if you ever do anything like that again and I find out it's intentional, you can kiss my ass goodbye." You leaned over and took the ring from Joe, placing it back on your finger.

"I understand. I couldn't ever stand the risk of losing you again, we've been through too much, we know too much and above all our love's too strong. But I'll take that ass kissing any day." You both managed a smirk, it was far from over, but the hurt was far from gone. You were right, he had a lot of work to do to resolve his mistakes, but they were just a big clump of mistakes and he'd never done anything to make you question it before, and you loved him so much, you couldn't bare life without your Joseph.

"So what was she helping you to do so bad that was keeping you from letting me know you were home." The smirk disappeared and Joe's lips fell into a thick line, you noticed the strong gulp.

"I was going to wait until we could go out, something I'd arranged for tonight. I'd called your parents to get their permission and they were ecstatic. I think now's a better time than any."

"What are you talking--" Your eyelids rose 3 times the size that they normally could, your mouth shot open and the anxiety that once made you feel glum, shot straight to excitement. Joe took your hand and stood you up before him, getting down onto one knee, taking a box out of his trouser pocket and opening it up to see the most beautiful and quite clearly expensive diamond ring you'd ever seen.

"My baby, my beautiful Y/N, my fucking rock. You are the one I want to spend my life with and nearly losing you would've been the death of me. This is what I needed help with, this isn't what I was going to say or how I planned it go but now it's here I don't actually think I needed any help at all. You're so perfect to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no more mistakes ok?"

Tears streamed down your face, Joe's breathing hitched with every word he spoke, his eyes wet through just as much as yours.

"Will you do me the honour of becoming Mrs Quinn, will you marry me my love?"

You didn't need a second thought, you knew he'd been honest and he was facing up to the faults in miscommunicating regularly with you. Deep down you knew he wasn't a bad person and that he didn't get a word in edge ways with you last night because you were so clearly pissed off, your dramatics clearly shone through.

You wiped your eyes, a smile beaming so wide and nodded straight down at him. "Yes, oh my god, a thousand times yes!" Joe took your hand, putting the ring onto your left hand and shot straight up enveloping you into his arms, picking you up off your feet in a swift motion. "Thank fuck for that." He said as you both cried a giggle at one another. He squeezed you so hard, and you leant back to face him, crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was so long awaited and had this morning gone wrong you'd have never had the chance again, but at least it hadn't and now you had the best reason to desperately attack his mouth.

"I love you, Y/N. My future wife."

"I love you Joe, my future husband."

Joe put you down, his hand still round your waist as you both flopped onto the sofa, closer this time as you held onto one another.

"So, you wanted to go out?"

"That was where I was going to do it and it looks like we're going out to celebrate anyway, come on. I think you deserve to look fucking hot tonight, get ready, we're going shopping."

"Wait a second, I don't always look hot?" You furrowed your brows at your fiancé.

"You know what I mean, you beautifully stubborn woman."

You snuggled your face into his chest, the familiar warmth and scent that felt like home instantly gave you hope. Your hand laying on his stomach, you watched the ring glitter from the natural light.

"Doesn't mean you give up and forget what happened you know."

"I know, but this is a start." Joe pushed your head up, gripping his fingers to your chin and gave you a soft, slow, well needed extra long kiss. This was the man you knew.

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dreamstate4you · 9 months

Text

The Day the music Died.

-Miguel O'Hara

-3.3k words

-angst

Part 1

"This is it...

This is my best. I am doing my best.

Every day, I get up, I get dressed, I feed myself.

I try to breathe in and out. I force myself to stop by Gabriella's room... And I think about how sorry I feel for little Gabriella because she will never remember Miguel's laugh.

Or the way he smiled,

or what it is to be hugged in his arms.

I feel even sorrier for myself because, most of the time, all i am thinking is that I can't leave Gabriella alone in this world to be with my husband.

Miguel was the air that I breathed and now there is no air."

Chapter 1

" We're sorry for your loss."

"You'll figure this out."

"It's a shame he was murdered."

The same old words were repeated to me. All in the same tone, a tone that held pity.

Everytime they said it, I smiled sadly at them. I was a widow. I was mourning.

I wore black, a colour of death. The death of my husband , Miguel, he was murdered.

When I first heard the news I thought I was in a nightmare. That I would wake up any second and be rescued as I find myself in his warm embrace ,but all I felt was the cold air next to our bed.

I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. I can't believe it.

I have seen his body, his could lifeless body ,but I won't believe it.

I cried myself to sleep for two nights until I decided that these tears wouldn't help me. I hoped that if I stopped crying then he would come back.

He had to come back to me and Gabriella.

"Isabella." Lola's voice broke me from my trance. I looked at her. I couldn't trust my voice to talk fearing that it would break.

"It's time to go home. Gabriella is already sleeping in my car." Lola must have noticed how I didn't move. I was looking at her direction ,but my eyes could not see her. Her voice was being overpowered by the silence.

"Come." Lola held my hand. Patient with me and guiding me to her car. Away from the grave yard, away from his grave.

Lola opened the car door for me. I stepped in and looked at Gabriella who was cradled up into a ball. She didn't understand what was happening. A child so young who just lost her father.

Tears were beginning to threaten to fall. I tried to push them back. I really did, but a few drops became rebellious and fell. I wiped them away as quick as I could. Blinking at a furious pace and looking up so no more could fall.

"Isa, it's okay to mourn." Lola said besides him.

"I know. I'm fine Lola. Honestly I am." I lied through my teeth. What can I say. What was I supposed to say. I'm not fine everyone knew that I'm not fine ,but what could they do. Nothing. The can't do anything.

Lola didn't pry further. She drove us home. My cold, empty home. A home without the person who made it home.

"You sure you'll be able to take her to school tomorrow. I can do it. I won't mind." Lola spoke as I cradled Gabriella into my arms. She was still asleep ,but she held onto my clothes. It seemed like a third sense of hers. She's scared I'd leave her.

"I'm fine Lola. i promise to contact you if anything comes up." Lola gives me a look from inside the car.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

I seemed to convince her for now. Lola rolled her car windows closed and drove off. I watched her car disappear into the sunset. I wished to stay where I was. Stay here and not move.

I didn't want to walk through that door and find the house empty. I didn't , I couldn't, I won't...

Regards I slowly walked to the porch clutching into Gabriella's sleeping body. The outside lights were off ... maybe Miguel forgot to turn them on. Maybe he was inside waiting for me.

I found myself rushing to open the door. Shifting Gabriella's body on one side as I fumbled with the keys once I opened the door and switched on the lights... nothing. It was empty.

It was cold

It was lifeless.

With heavy footsteps I climbed upstairs and it felt like climbing a mountain. I put Gabriella to sleep in her bed. Making sure to kiss her forehead to scare her nightmares away.

Once I was done and closed her door. It was time to go to our...no my room. I held onto the doorknob. Not turning it. Not letting go. I was frozen in place.

Miguel should be in there right? He had a long day at work and he was so tired that he just went to bed, right?

Opening the door and the cold air hit me like a truck. The bed was still as messy as I left it and my Miguel was not there.

I felt hallow. I refuse to cry. I won't cry. I shouldn't cry... I don't want to cry.

Involuntary of my wil my body sank into the ground. Instinctively my hands covered my face as I sobbed into them.

My Miguel wasn't here. My Miguel wasn't here. My Miguel isn't here.

I felt like my body, mind and soul were being ripped apart, put back together and ripped apart again.

"No. No. No. Miguel no. Don't do this to me. Please don't do this to me." I was begging to whoever was listening. God , angels, demons. I didn't care. I wanted him back. I can't live without him. I can't deal with another day without waking up in his arms.

Im afraid, lonely and in pain. I've lost my world. I've lost the person who made the world hold colour.

I sat there , against the door, holding my gaze with the messy undone bed.

Miguel always kept the house tidy and clean. It had order.

Seconds, minutes then hours had passed as I laid against the wall staring at that bed that haunted me.

The time? What time was it? I did not know how much time had passed. I did not want to know.

But I should try...for Gabriella.

I reached for my purse. It felt like my hand was graping something far away. I got hold of it and looked for my phone...my phone...the phone that held a polaroid photo of our wedding day.

I turned the phone to look at the polaroid. His smile...his smile that I'll never see again.

I felt myself slipping away. It felt like I was falling in an endless pit.

I tried. I really did try to get out of the pit ,but reality kept pulling me deeper into the abyss. And abyss where I had to realize that Miguel is gone. My Miguel is gone and I would never see him again... Or I could.

The dark thoughts clouded my mind ,but they pulled me out of the abyss. Frantically I stood up and rushed to the bathroom counter.

Pills

I held the white bottle of sleeping pills. A strong dios the doctor prescribed for Miguel when he was having trouble sleeping. They knocked him out until the next day. That was just one pill.

I poured the pills on my hand. They weren't a lot but a handful. They were enough, enough to let me sleep for an eternity, enough to let me see my Miguel.

"Mama." Gabriella knocked on the bathroom door. "I need help with picking my clothes." Gabriella opened the bathroom door.

I dropped the pills. I heard them scatter away. My way out of this torture was now on the floor.

For a second I stood frozen in shock. Gabriella, our Gabriella, my Gabriella... I was going to leave her in this world alone.

"Of course honey." I put on the best smile I could. It must have looked like a crooked smile to Gabriella, but my amazing daughter did not hesitate and lead us back to her room.

Her room. Her messy room that she would clean up with Miguel every Sunday evening.

I went to her closet and picked an outfit for her day at school. Her favourite Jean with a flower embroidery and a light sweater. I put and extra jacket in her back pack incase it got cold.

"You also need to change mommy. You can't take me to School in yesterdays clothes." She said to me swinging her legs as she tempered with her cloudy clock.

The cloudy clock. Miguel was so excited when he bought that for her. My poor Gabriella promised to use that cloudy clock until she was old and grey.

Oh this is unfair. My Miguel. My sweet Miguel you promised to be there to watch our Gabriella grow up, to scare her first boyfriend when she brought him home.

"There you go honey." I place the clothes I picked out for her on her bed. She took them and skipped her way to the bathroom.

I wondered... How is Gabriella feeling. She is a child. She's only six. We tried to tell her that her father isn't coming back. That her father is gone ,but she...she...she keeps telling us that her father promised that even if it took years he would come back to her.

Stupid Miguel. He's making this hard for us, for me.

I looked around her room. Going to the corner to being out her backpack for school. Inside was her soccer uniform. Miguel would often coach her in soccer, he told me he'd make her the best soccer player in the universe.

I sniffed as my nose felt clogged. The silent tears landing on my palms as I failed to control them. I feel to my knees ,clutching Gabriella's uniform as I sob.

When will this pain end.

I'm trying. No I'm not trying.

I need to accept it. Accept that Miguel is gone ,but I can't. I just can't. A part of me hopes that he'll come back home to me, to us, to the family that we built.

"Mama." Gabriella hugged me from behind. Lightly putting her hands on my shoulders as if I was a fragile piece of glass that would break.

I was pathetic. How can a parent allow their own child to see them like this. I quickly whipped my tears away.

"Gabriella. You're- you're done changing."

"Mama-"

"Mama is okay honey. Come on" I kneeled down to face her level. "Let's go pick mama's outfit. I picked yours and you pick mine."

Gabriella smiled at me . Our bright daughter. Our amazing daughter.

We both walked to me room. Gabriella slowly opened the door as if someone was inside and she didn't want to disturb them. It seemed to be a habit she picked up. We would always wake up early in the house while Miguel slept till lunch time.

I watched as Gabriella stood still in her foot steps , looking at the messy bed in a distance. She still held onto the door knob. It seemed like she was frozen in place.

"Honey-"

She shook her bed and bounced to my dresser. I followed her. I wanted to sit down on the bed ,but I couldn't bring myself to move as I watched my daughter go through my clothes.

"Ah here." She held out her favorite summer dress I often wore to our family vacations.

"Ah Gabriella that's a summer dress. You know it's too cold these days." I dismissed the idea. She seemed to not listen because she went to our shared closet- my closet now.

She opened it to reveal most of Miguel's hanged clothes. Gabriella took a deep breath staring at the clothes. Oh it broke my heart to see her in such a state.

She shook her head once again and pulled down one of Miguel's blue and red puffer jacket.

"Wear this." She placed it no top on the dress. Giving me a crocked smile.

"Mama." Her tone changed as she saw that I was staring at the jacket she picked out for me intensely. "Mama. Papa always said that he'd come back."

"Gabby." I sat on the bed putting my hands in on my face to cool my eyes down. I could not cry, no ,not infront of her. I must try to be strong. "Papa is not coming back."

"No mama. He always said that he'd come back! He said it could be one day, one week or even years ,but he promised to come back so don't be sad!" Gabriella screened at me. I looked at her and looked.

She...she-

"Now wear your clothes or we're going to be late for school." She walked around the bed and closed the door for me to change.

I sat on the bed bewildered.

I need to be strong. I have to be strong. I can't let Gabriella be unhappy because of me, but I can't find the strength without Miguel.

My Miguel.

My Miguel is gone. Right now I have Gabriella. My daughter. Our daughter. I should try.

Please let my try. Anyone who's listen please give me the strength to try.

I decided to grab the clothes she picked out for me and walk out of my room to go change into into the bathroom.

When I opened the bathroom door I expected to see the remains of the pills from earlier ,but when I looked I saw them swapt away in the corner of the bathroom.

Gabriella must have done that...

What was I thinking. I groaned in my hands. Feeling my eyes get warmer once again.

What kind of parent was willing to kill herself and leave her child alone.

I walked outside the bathroom and walked back into the bedroom. I guess I'll be changing in here.

I changed into the clothes Gabriella had picked for me. Miguel's scent that lingered in his jacket strongly effected my nose . It felt like he was close. It felt like he was embracing me. It felt like I was being taunted.

I ignored the feelings and stopped by Gabby's room. She wasn't here.

I started to panic. I walked into her room checking behind the door and behind the bed.

"Gabriella!"

"Mama?" I heard her voice from the stairway. I quickly left her room and saw her standing in the stairway.

I quickly ran to her and embraced her. I was afraid that she left me...like Miguel.

I pulled away from her hug and took her face in my hands.

"Mama is okay now." I spoke with my mouth full of spit. My eyes red and hot and my nose that was stuffy. " Wow you even did your ponytail perfectly." I stand up and look at her neatly done hair.

I heard the tv from downstairs Playing.

"We're you watching tv?" I ask her. She nods in returns and walks down the stairs to continue with her tv show.

I walked behind the kitchen counter to prepare for Gabriella's lunch. I opened the cabinet and found it empty.

I checked the fridge and the only thing left was food that had spoiled and half cut vegetables.

I let out a big sigh.

"Gabby. Is it fine if I give you lunch money? You can ask one of the teachers to go with you and buy food from the vendors outside the school."

I Pat down the jacket pockets looking for my phone which I did not find. I came to realize that it was still upstairs and the battery had probably died because I had not charged it.

I decided that I would just tell the teacher when I drop her off at school. I made a mental note of that.

"Come on Gabriella, let's go." I grabbed the car keys and observed Gabriella jump off the sofa to grab the remote. Switching the TV off and walking towards the kitchen chairs where she grabbed her backpack.

"You have everything?" I questioned her referring to the backpack. She nodded her head at me "yeah."

Both of us walked out and stood infront of the garage door. I pressed the button so the door could open.

Outside the wind was chilly. Not too chilly to make you shiver and make your teeth clutter,but enough to give you a Chill that passes by.

The door opened and Gabriella immediately climbed into the back set. I walked to the drivers side. Trying to not look at the other car, Miguel's car. His car that would just sit in the Garage unless I got rid of it.

I climbed into the car and put my head by the starting wheel. Taking a deep breath before securing myself with the driver seat.

I looked in the rearview mirror to see Gabby also snapping her seatbelt in place.

I collected my thoughts. Taking deep breaths every few seconds. I touched the car Screen tablet and I saw the time.

7:49

We were slightly late. Gabriella's school started at eight.

I started to drive to The school making sure to go at a fast but safe speed. I turned on the radio and immediately heard the channel talking about Spiderwoman.

I continued to drive, Gabriella looked out the window, once I arrived at the school I took out some money from the car Cabin and handed it to Gabriella.

She thanked me grabbing the money as she opened the car door.

I also opened the door and saw her homeroom teacher standing at the gate.

I waved at her and she waved back. I could already see it in her eyes what her next words would be. I reacted fast and spoke first.

"I gave her some lunch money. So be-"

"Oh yeah we got it miss O'Hara."

She cut me off from speaking. She must have pitted me to think that I could not speak for myself. I knew that smile. That half hearted smile she gave me.

I tried to ignore it and looked at Gabriella who was standing by the teachers side.

"I'll see you after school." I told her in a calm voice. Usually Miguel would pick her up after school if she was not busy ,but...things have changed.

"Bye mama." She waved goodbye to me. Turning around to run inside the building. The teacher stood still. She seemed to be debating with herself about her next words to me.

"Miss O'hara." Here it comes, I thought. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bingo there it is.

I tried to smile at her. Those words I heard at the funeral. The words that keep reminding me how I lost my Miguel, my world. The words that confirm my worst fear. The fear that I'm now alone in this world.

I gave up on trying to smile and just nodded my head. Heading back into the car and driving back home.

The drive back was silent. I did not turn on the radio. I allowed the car to be silent ,but somehow it felt louder than any other days.

I parked the car in the garage and waiting. Seconds then minutes passed. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. I had to go inside the house. I can't, I can't ,but I must try.

I walked to the door And opened it. The house was quiet. No sound, no life, no Miguel.

I closed the door behind me and placed my hand on the kitchen counter. Holding onto the counter I kneeled and held my head down. Letting the tears Flow from my eyes freely. I allowed myself to cry. I cried for a lot of things ,but mostly for Miguel. My Miguel.

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